


The Case of the Concealed Current

by ElderberryWine



Series: 221B Bag End [6]
Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes - fandom
Genre: M/M, Part of the 221 B Bag End series.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-05
Updated: 2010-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-07 18:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElderberryWine/pseuds/ElderberryWine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry's call for assistance leads Baggins and Gamgee into some very dark waters indeed.  Part of the <i>221B Bag End</i> AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"There's something not at all right about this, mark my words, cousin Frodo," Meriadoc Brandybuck gave a furious puff on his pipe. We were, the three of us, comfortably arranged about the Bag End study late on a damp autumn night with the fire crackling heartily in the fireplace, and small glasses of Brandy Hall's finest eponymous beverage before us, to take the chill off of our insides. I was, point of fact, beginning to get either rather muddled or somewhat drowsy, I wasn't exactly sure which, when the heir to the Buckland estates delivered himself of this heartfelt sentiment.

Baggins gave a low chuckle, and drew thoughtfully on his particularly noxious blend. The room was becoming unmistakably foggy, of that, I was most definitely aware. "Perhaps so, perhaps so," he murmured encouragingly. "But I don't think Gamgee here was in on the beginning of it, and it never hurts to put the facts, once again, in order. Why don't you lay it all out before me once more, and let us see where the particulars lead us."

"Humph," clarified the young gentlehobbit, and blew quite a decent smoke ring into the air. "Well, it's all had to do with the latest crop of Buckland's best. Pipeweed, obviously. We've always done quite a bit of business with Bree and indirectly, no doubt, lands beyond that, but we leave that matter up to the good folk of Bree. This last season, though, we kept getting reports that not all the weed we shipped to Bree was arriving there."

Baggins laid his pipe to rest on a small dish for the moment and nodded thoughtfully, his hands falling into their customary steepled position as he considered the facts of the case. "But it isn't just a matter of a bundle going astray here or there, is it, Merry?" he prompted him softly, his eyes lost in contemplation of the dancing flames.

"Indeed not," Brandybuck replied shortly. "A missing bundle or two of pipeweed is hardly a matter of great concern. A missing hobbit, however, is just that."

"It was old Tobias," he continued, staring at his pipe thoughtfully. "He's been around since I was a fauntling, and there's no hobbit my father trusts more. And yet, there has been no word from him since he left Brandy Hall to check into the matter over two weeks ago."

"Do you have any information as to whether or not he reached Stock, not to mention the Brandywine Bridge?" Baggins asked quietly, when it seemed as though Brandybuck had no more to say.

"He reached Stock, that we know," Brandybuck sighed, "for the innkeeper there was quite positive that he saw him in the common room the night after he left Brandy Hall. But where he spent the night, no one seems to know, and there's been no word since then from him." He fell silent at that point, and puffed hard on his pipe for a moment more, until he suddenly burst out, "Hang it all, Frodo, it's as if he's absolutely vanished from the Shire! There's just no call for that; he is a very decent sort with a family that's absolutely at wit's end about this. He must have gone somewhere; some one must know something. I personally could care less if a bundle of Longbottom gets pinched now and then, but when old Tobias goes missing, well, I take that quite personally!"

"As well you should," Baggins agreed, with a quiet but resolute emphasis. "Very well, my dear Merry, I shall look into the matter. Possibly Gamgee might be able to spare some time as well?" he added, with only the merest hint of a warm glance in my direction.

"Oh, absolutely," I agreed hastily. But then I would have agreed to parade into Hobbiton wearing naught but a coy smile for the sake of that look, as well he knew.

"Well, I'm coming with you chaps," Brandybuck declared fiercely, and I gave an inward sigh. Baggins' cousin had the awkward habit of tending to stick to Baggins like the veriest devil of a thistle. The whole affair immediately appeared to present certain logistical dilemmas. I had, however, the utmost of faith in my companion, and that surety had not yet gone amiss.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Brandybuck was safely stowed away in the guest bedroom, that Baggins had prudently had dug out last summer far down the hall at the other end of Bag End, and Baggins and I were finally together under the down coverlet. The edges of the bed were still a trifle on the icy side, so I kept myself tucked up close to that deliciously slender but sinewy body that I had, still fairly recently, come to know so very well. "Do you know this Tobias?" I murmured, watching Frodo's profile in the intermittent moonlight from the stormy night outside.

"No, he came to Brandy Hall after I left," he answered, turning to me with his mouth quirking into a smile. "So what do you make of it, Samwise?"

Feeling as inordinately pleased as I always did when asked for my opinion, I thought carefully before answering. "Either he is being kept away, or he is intentionally staying away," I answered after consideration. "And in either case, it may or may not be connected with the missing pipeweed."

"Quite precisely put, my dear," he chuckled, with a swift kiss. "And as usual with the Brandybucks, there is most likely more to it than one first might think, or than Merry can guess at. I suspect that the innkeeper might be our first point of inquiry."

"Very well, my dearest, we shall slog our way to Stock as soon as you like," I snuggled myself in a little closer, and wound one of my legs around one of his.

"Mmm," he hummed, responding in kind. "But not as ourselves," he stopped suddenly, raising himself up on an elbow and gazing down at me, with a distinct note of amusement in his voice. "No, I think you shall be a gentlehobbit unaccountably deciding to do a bit of fishing for pleasure before the winter sets in. It would be well not to appear to be connected with Brandy Hall, after all."

"Very well," I responded, blinking at the thought. "If you think that would serve our purpose. And you?"

"Ah, that is the question, is it not? I must think on that, I believe," he smiled.

"Baggins, you thrive on this sort of thing, don't you?" I could not help but smile in return.

"I am guilty as accused," he laughed, drawing me close once again. "After all, I can't very well languish in the study translating elvish text all my life, can I? How frightfully boring that would be! Well, Sam dearest, tomorrow we shall join in the chase once again. But until then, you have apparently brought up a matter of a good deal of interest. Let us see what we can be doing about that."

Baggins was, as usual, nothing if not perceptive, and the rest of the night passed quite entertainingly indeed.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was two days later that the three of us approached the rather sizeable village of Stock. The rain had not let up, and it had been a long and weary tramp so I was thankfully anticipating the aforementioned inn and a hearty fire, but Baggins brought us to a halt and pulled us off the main road first. "Time to lay out our plans, my friends," he cautioned us with an undisguised expression of exhilaration. "Merry, you will stay at the inn, in the very best room available, and make sure that all the other patrons are aware that you are returning to Brandy Hall on the morrow. Indeed, that is exactly what you must do."

Brandybuck began to protest, but Baggins held up a hand to silence him. "I believe you mentioned that there was one last shipment headed to the Brandywine Bridge before the end of the season, am I not correct?"

Brandybuck nodded, waiting.

"Very well, then, you must accompany it. That would not appear unlikely, I should think, in light of what has been happening. When you reach Stock again, wait for word from one of us. At the very least, we will contact you by the time you reach the Bridge, so do not wait here overlong for us."

"Very well, Frodo, I will do as you say," Brandybuck conceded, with only the slightest air of disappointment. "Shall I tell my father that you are assisting us?"

"Did you tell him that you were coming to Bag End?" Baggins countered, frowning.

"No, I just left on my own," the young hobbit admitted at that question.

"Excellent," Baggins nodded approvingly. "The fewer who know of our plans, the best for all. One can get no information from one who does not know it. Very well, Merry, be off now, and Gamgee will be arriving not long after you. Mind, you do not know each other! And do have a care, Merry, these may be some very deep waters indeed."

"No worrying about me, my dear cousin," Merry gave a mock bow, with a grin. "Hold your cards close to your vest, if you must, then. Very well, Gamgee, I will see you soon, I suppose." And he was off in the late drizzly afternoon.

"As for you, my dear Samwise," Frodo now turned to me with a warm smile, catching hold of my hand. "You know that you can thoroughly act the part of a gentlehobbit whenever you wish to do so, and now is your opportunity. Find the inn, and the innkeeper, and ask if there is a smial available to let, anywhere near the river. Elaborate to anyone who should inquire as to your intense devotion to the art of the angler, no matter what the weather. Feel free, dearest, to even play the fool a bit, for they must find you absolutely harmless for my scheme to work. And make very sure you avoid speaking to Merry at all costs; I do not trust his acting abilities in the least."

"Certainly, my dear Frodo," I replied, trying my best to hide my anxiety about my role. "And you? Where will you be?"

"Not far, dear, trust me on that," he replied softly, drawing me near. "By tomorrow evening, I shall be with you, but this night, I must leave you for now." Wrapping his arms tightly about me, we shared a hungry kiss, heedless of the mizzle that ran down our faces and dripped off of our noses. "Until tomorrow, my love," he murmured tenderly, and suddenly lost in the dusk.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Brandybuck and I stood side by side, in the small room, both of our gazes irretrievably drawn to the single bed against the wall. "Well," Brandybuck finally found his voice, "I suppose it's just as well we were the only two travelers about tonight. At least it appears to be clean and comfortable enough for one evening; one really can't ask for more than that. So, then, Gamgee, right side or left?"

I hid my discomfort as best I could. Normally I would have resorted to the floor in the common room, but that would never have fit with my masquerade as a sporting gentlehobbit, and so I was stuck with Merry. However, my true cause for alarm was my very real fear that I might forget myself in my sleep, and cause an extremely awkward situation indeed. Trying my best to appear to consider the entire situation as an amusing predicament, I laughed lightly, and replied, "Whichever you wish, Brandybuck. It has been a long day, hasn't it? I don't think it matters in the least."

What a falsehood that was. I don't think I remember such an interminably long night ever. I clung to the edge of the bed, as Brandybuck snored obliviously next to me, and waited, with the last bit of patience that I possessed, for the light from the tiny window to eventually shade from black to violet to blue, and finally into morning.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Needless to mention, finding a smial to let, as Baggins had suggested, was at the very top of my agenda the next morning. Brandybuck had disappeared on his way back to Brandy Hall sometime after second breakfast, as requested, but I was not willing to tolerate whomever Stock might send me in the way of a errant traveler and bed companion for the next evening, so I was particularly sharp in my questioning of the proprietor, and was shown a dreary and damp smial by that very afternoon. I took it, of course, and then found myself looking about the place in dismay as the afternoon began to darken into evening. The memory of our snug hole at Bag End was particularly trying, so I flatly dismissed it from my mind, and concentrated on bringing some semblance of homeliness to my surroundings as soon as possible.

It is amazing, though, what a brisk fire in the fireplace, a thorough sweeping, and a kettle set to boil can do to remedy the situation. The small common room was soon warming up rather nicely, and I had just finished chopping up some sausages and vegetables that I had brought with me from the inn for a hearty pot of soup, when there was a sharp rap on the door.

An elderly hobbit was on the doorstep, wrapped in a tattered cloak, and with a bundle of kindling on his shoulder. "Pardons, good sir," he croaked out, with a subservient bow, "but might you be needin' a bit of wood for this mizzly night?"

"Really, Baggins, I thought you were never going to show up," I growled without a moment's hesitation, tugging him inside and quickly shutting the door.

Baggins, since of course it was he, laughed and stood up straight, immediately gaining about four inches in height. "You certainly don't let time go to waste, Gamgee," he commented appreciatively, looking about. "This is far more pleasant than I would have imagined."

"Doubtlessly, but we can discuss the smial later." I was not to be distracted, and wrapped him in my arms in the matter of an instant, and found his mouth with mine.

Delicious as we both found this pursuit, the scent of the soup was impossible to ignore for long, so with a certain amount of reluctance on both of our parts, we drew apart, at least for the moment, and returned our attention to our surroundings. "Out of the way, so none can survey who comes and goes," Baggins murmured with approval, touching an unpainted pair of shutters that closed up the one window, in lieu of glass, from the inside. "These are stoutly made, and secure the smial rather nicely. Apparently it stands vacant a considerable part of the year, and can be made quite impervious and weather-proof when not in use."

I was stirring the soup, which hung on a hook over the fire, and watching him with amusement as he studied the wood slats. "Really, Baggins, is Stock all so fierce that we must fortify ourselves here? The other patrons of the inn seemed like a placid lot to me."

Baggins gave a self-depreciatory chuckle at my remark, and shrugged a trifle self-consciously. "Force of habit, my dear. I suppose you are quite right. That does smell delicious, Samwise, I don't mind telling you so. I spent a cold and damp evening, last night, and there wasn't much in the way of food. I knew you'd put things to rights, though."

I beamed happily at his compliment, and motioned to a sack that was on the table. "Bread and cheese in there, Frodo, not to mention a bottle of wine. Why don't you hack some off and see what you can do about making us some toasted cheese? I'd best tend to the bedroom; I've had no chance to have a look at it, and I'm sure it's perfectly frightful. Let me have that broom, my dear, and that candle, and I will see if any mice have made their residence there."

To my great relief, there was no sign of animal residents in the only other room the smial possessed, and the bed appeared perfectly serviceable, if perhaps a bit dusty. There were good wool blankets stacked neatly on a small chair in the corner, and even a few plump pillows. And best of all was my discovery of a warming pan and brick to use to drive the chill out of the bed. So I quickly swept and dusted and shook out the blankets and plumped the pillows, and gazed at my handiwork by the candlelight with satisfaction. It was not Bag End, to be sure, but we could have done worse. Snatching up the brick, to nestle in the embers for a bit, I returned to the other room, where Frodo had just uncorked the wine.

What a merry evening we made of it; I remember it still with a smile. The simple meal was delicious, the room was warm and snug, and both of us were in the best of spirits. I told Frodo of my previous restless night, and my fears, and he simply could not stop laughing at the thought of it. "Poor Merry, what a shock that would have been for him. He thinks that I am the stodgiest of individuals, a veritable hermit, and the notion that I am otherwise would have shaken him to his core."

"He is not the only one who once thought so," I countered with a grin, taking another sip of my wine. "Why, I believe I can count on one hand the number of times I heard you laugh; in the time that you lived at Bag End with Bilbo."

"It was my tragic youth," his lean face grew suddenly quite solemn, the effect being only slightly spoiled by the quirking up of one side of his mouth. "I think I rather excelled in the role of the unfortunate stray. Bilbo had, at least most of the time, an enormous amount of patience, but I believe I tested him to the utmost more than once."

"I know," I grinned. "He would come down to have a word with my father, from time to time, to ask him how he managed to raise such a fine young son as myself, and what advice he could spare on the matter."

"Really, Sam, it's a wonder that you ever saw fit to associate with such a reprobate as myself," Frodo leaned back his chair, with a raised eyebrow, before finishing off his mug.

I shrugged, with feigned nonchalance. "You had your good points. As you still do."

"Good points? How very encouraging," he murmured, pulling his pipe out from his jacket pocket. "Do go on, I beg of you."

"I promise to do more than merely point them out, my dear Frodo, but don't light that up just now. Last night was really quite an exhausting one, and I shall be asleep on you before you know it," I warned him, rising from my seat, and walking over to the small fire to bank it for the night. "I don't want that to happen, I assure you, but the matter is quite beyond my preferences."

"Possibly one of my good points, then, is a sense of appropriate timing," and he put the pipe back into his jacket pocket without a further word. "Very well, Sam my dear, let us see what wonders you have performed on the other room of this smial, and I will do my best to keep you awake for at least a short while."

He proved to be good as his word, and we spent at least an hour in murmured endearments, delicious caresses, and sighs of bliss, until at last I could hold off the inevitable no long, and I fell asleep cradled in his embrace.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Baggins laid out his plan for my benefit early, quite early indeed, the next morning. "The next and last shipment shall be on its way from Buckland within the next few days," he muttered, hastily cutting off a chunk of bread and cheese, wrapping it in a cloth, and stuffing them into a well-worn satchel. "Both of us, therefore, must keep our eye to the river. I will find employment easily enough as an itinerant riverhobbit. Most of them have left, since the season is, for the most part, over."

I sleepily poked at the fire, and hung the kettle over it.

"And you, my dear Sam, shall be by the river as well, in a different capacity," he continued, finding us a couple of clean mugs, since apparently the dishes from the night before never quite got done. "Do find time to visit the inn, and have a chat with the gentlehobbits there. They may well have information that I will not be privy to, and it will be well to pool our information together."

"And when will I see you again, Frodo?" I queried him, awakening sufficiently to get to the salient point. "After all, we can hardly pool our information if we do not see each other."

He laughed at my question, and with a sudden move, drew me to himself and kissed me with enthusiasm, immediately returned, of course, on my end. "Not to worry, Sam my love, I plan on finding you at night when at all possible. But," he drew back, giving me a serious look, "if I can't be here, this is what I shall do. Do you remember the tree under which you and I and Merry stood before we entered Stock?"

I nodded. It had been a particularly tall and stately larch, and I remembered it well.

"If I cannot come, I shall notch it, one notch for each night I expect to be gone," he continued, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I do not anticipate that occurring, my dear, but it is best to be prepared." With an abrupt smile, he let his hand creep up the side of neck into my curls, and I felt the sudden surge of blood through my veins. "As I mentioned, Sam, my dearest love, I do plan on being here," he murmured tenderly. "Nights are irretrievably dull without you."

And as always, he left me craving his return.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

I found myself, later that morning, on the banks of the Brandywine, not far from the Stock piers. No one else was about, in this drizzle, and I wondered briefly if Baggins had thought this thing out completely. I stared down at my hastily assembled kit of fishing gear, and felt hopelessly out of my element. But Baggins had mentioned something about not fearing to appear the fool, and clearly that was going to be a highly attainable goal.

With an inward sigh, I spread a blanket, which I had prudently though to bring along, on a flat boulder near the water's edge, at an angle where my view of Stock was unobstructed. Assembling my hook and line with a good deal of uncertainty, I fervently hoped that no one was watching this shambles. Foolish, I could definitely manage. I just hoped I didn't have to appear remotely competent as well. But at last, the line was in the water, and the pole was firmly planted in the ground, and I could afford to turn my attention to the riverside.

There really was not much to view. The piers, several widely spaced short affairs of weather-beaten timber, were empty, as were a ramshackle collection of sheds and other derelict buildings nearby. Not a living hobbit came and went about any of them, as far as I could see. There was, however, one small boat floating about in one of the coves on the far shore. It was too far away to know for certain, but it appeared to be a fishing vessel, presumable one containing fisherfolk who knew what they were about. I fervently hoped that it would come nowhere near me.

An occasional Stock resident would make his or her way along one of the waterside lanes, from time to time, but always well wrapped in a heavy cloak against the weather, and not a one looked in my direction. I got up on occasion, to shake the pole a bit, but more to relieve the tedium than for any other reason. I dreaded to think of what I would do if I actually caught a fish. Handling one that had been procured in the Hobbiton marketplace was one thing, but handling one that was wiggling at the end of a line was entirely a different matter. Privately, I resolved that if I managed to actually catch one, I would pitch the whole affair into the bushes and tell Baggins that he would have to come up with a new identity for me.

But the fish were wise enough to carry about their business elsewhere, and eventually I could tell by the intermittent dull glimmer of sun from behind the rain clouds that it was nearing noon. Surely even the most enthusiastic of anglers was due a morsel of lunch somewhere in out of the rain, I firmly told myself. It was time to make my way back to the inn to see what the proprietor did in the way of a hot meal.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The inn was not full this late morning, and those who sat at the table had the appearance of regulars, each in their accustomed seat, and not much of a conversation taking place anywhere in the room. I ordered a plate of shepherd's pie, and a half-pint of their best, and found my way to the first unoccupied table near the fire. A couple of hobbits gave me a curious glance, but none were interested enough to join me, and the silence continued unabated. The buzz of a fly near the window could be distinctly heard above the subdued crackle of the flames, and I felt my head nodding once or twice. It had been a long morning, and the warmth and my full stomach were conspiring to make a short nap seem like the best possible idea.

But the silence came to an abrupt halt with the entry of a group of hobbits, led by a tall and imposing individual. Instantly, the rest of the room snapped to attention with a low hum beginning as murmured conversation spread through the room, and I watched with surprise as the formerly somewhat surly proprietor turned into the most attentive of hosts.

"Spread out something tasty for myself and my lads," the new arrival growled, indicating the hobbits behind him with an imperious gesture. "Something better than that swill you served us last time. Had a stomach ache for a week." His dark eyes surveyed the room as he spoke, and caught sight of me.

"Certainly, sir," the host bowed, and his assistant sprang to his feet behind him with fearful eyes. "Will you be staying long, this time?"

"I'll let you know my business when I have reason to," the newcomer growled without a glance at the innkeeper as he made his way across the room to me.

Fascinated by his imperiousness, I rose at his approach, and gave him a courteous nod. "Aloysius Underhill," I introduced myself, using the pseudonym upon which Baggins and I had agreed, holding my hand out politely.

He flashed a striking smile in my direction, and promptly took my hand, giving it a firm shake. "Boll Nethercleft, at your service. May I?" He indicated the empty seat next to mine.

"By all means," I assured him, glad of the distraction. I wasn't too sure, still, regarding what exactly I was to be on the lookout for, but this character seemed to be someone clearly worth investigating. With pleasure, I realized that I would have something about which to tell Baggins this night.

He lowered his considerable self into the chair next to mine, and it suddenly struck me how large he actually was. Baggins was a couple of inches taller than I was, but Nethercleft had a couple more inches on him, not to mention at least two stone.

"So, here on business?" he queried, giving me a penetrating look from under his heavy black brows before snatching up the full pint that hastily set before him without a glance at the quavering young hobbit who had set it there.

"Bit of holiday," I responded mildly, taking another sip of my own drink. Whoever this Nethercleft was, he clearly held the local populace in thrall, and I was none too disposed to join in their trepidation regarding him. "Heard fishing was good hereabouts."

"Fishing?" he asked incredulously, setting down his mug on the table with a harsh laugh. "This time o'year? Not too many folk stop here for pleasure."

"Well, quite possibly I heard wrong," I laughed lightly. "In which case, I won't be around for very long, I suppose."

He continued to study me carefully, for a few moments more, with his unfathomable dark eyes, and then gave a derisive snort. "No accounting for gentlehobbits, seems like. Well, if you'd be lookin' for a ride up river or down, just you be askin' for me, then. Not much goes by on the Brandywine, these parts, without me knowin' about it."

"Ah, do you own a shipping venture, then, Mr. Nethercleft?" I asked, in my blandest tones. "I've heard there is a great deal of cargo that is shipped up this way, from Buckland. You must do quite well with that bit of business."

He stared darkly at me, and for a moment I felt the thrill of fear that perhaps I'd given too much away. But I continued to smile in what I desperately hoped was quite an idiotic fashion, and he finally grunted, and responded, " 'Tis somewhat of a shipping business, right enough. Strictly local, but I'd be glad to help you on your way, should you be leaving Stock." And I had no doubt but that he spoke the truth.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

I spent the rest of the afternoon in my new lodgings, as the drizzle turned into a downpour, and I convinced myself that even the most dedicated of hobbyists could not be expected to stay out in that. For lack of anything else to do, and with the sneaking suspicion that we might be staying in the area longer than I had first anticipated, I set about making the long unused smial as home-like as possible. I had found a fairly decent shop in Stock, and loaded myself up with as many comforts of home as I could manage to carry back.

So there was a more substantial meal than just soup on the fire, and the front room now contained a substantial pile of kindling set to the side to dry, as well as a few more blankets, and even a couple of large cushions that I had managed to protect from the rain. The larder was now well-stocked with bread, honey, tea, taters, bacon and onions, and even a tin of ginger biscuits in honor of Baggin's sweet tooth. In addition, there were a few bottles of the wine I knew that he preferred to beer. The several trips I had had to make from the village to the smial were well worth the while, and what was more, I had discovered a battered shed tucked away behind the hill, from which I had scavenged some well-worn dishes, pans and pots, a bundle of miraculously dry candles, and wonder of wonders, a decently large copper bathing tub.

With this sodden weather, the latter discovery was welcome indeed, and I cheerfully dragged it into the smial, after allowing it to be half-filled with rain water, tucking it on the side of the room, near the fire. With a tasty meal in preparation, and with the room well-lit and far more habitable and cozy than it previously had been, I gazed about with pride. All it lacked now was the hobbit I loved so dearly.

He arrived not long after it became completely dark, with a rapid double knock on the sturdy door. I eagerly flung it open, and had to laugh at the spectacle presented to me. "I must say, Baggins, no need to throw yourself into your impersonation quite so completely. A river rat, indeed!"

I received a glower for my comments for exactly half a minute before the side of his mouth began to quirk upwards in that dearly familiar smile. "Very well, Gamgee, I stand so accused. And how might I be able to recover my gentlehobbitly demeanor?"

"By a warm bath, of course," I indicated the half-filled tub with a flourish, "as well as a decent meal."

"By the Lady, Samwise, you are a perfect treasure!" he exclaimed in response, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the tub, and inhaling the aroma of the stewed chicken in its pot appreciatively.

"Doubtlessly," I chuckled, and lifted the sodden cloak off his shoulders. "The kettle has been boiling, so I'll add the hot water now. You can't possibly be thinking of eating in this soggy state, now, can you?"

Since he had no objections whatsoever to this plan, he was quickly luxuriating in the tub while I finished off dinner preparations. "This is quite convenient, is it not, Sam my dear?" he soaped about his toes happily. "I can take the chill out of my bones, which I don't mind telling you I had thought to be a very nearly impossible proposition indeed, whilst you tend to the pots. Perhaps Bag End is entirely too large."

"Bag End is absolutely perfect," I responded, stopping by the tub to emphasize my point with a kiss on the back of his neck. "There isn't a thing about it that I would change."

"Not these days," he threw an arm around my neck and returned the kiss quite thoroughly. "It wasn't always so," he murmured slowly as he released me, tracing a light finger now my cheek, his eyes suddenly dark in the firelight.

Alas, the tub was not big enough for two, so I stifled my impulses, and gave him a smile instead. "Finish off, my dear, for the dinner is done, and I don't mind admitting that I'm famished."

"Oh, Sam, you have no idea," he gave a hearty sigh as he rose up and set about drying himself with the towel I had prudently thought to lay out. "The life of the single riverhobbit is not a pretty one, and glad I am that I do not have to impersonate one for long. At least I won't, if I find out no more information than I did today."

"Well, I ran across an interesting personage," I mentioned mildly, as I lay out plates on the rough table that was one of the few pieces of furniture that had been found in the smial. "Very likely he may have some bearing on this whole affair, but as to exactly what, I'll leave up to you."

"Really, Sam? Do explain, dearest. After you pass me that bottle, of course. Even the lowliest of river rats is due his evening drop, I do believe." He sat on one the straight-backed chairs with which the smial had been provided, wrapped in naught but one of the blankets that I had laid out before the fire to warm, and took the bottle of wine from me.

I ladled the stew into our plates and laid out bread, cheese, and a bowl of late autumn pears. "You know, Frodo, I believe he was actually trying to intimidate me, but I will let you be the judge of that." Sitting down to our meal, and accepting a mug of wine from him, I launched into an account of my meeting with Boll Nethercleft, earlier that day.

Baggins listened with rapt attention, asking the occasional question, and nodded thoughtfully when I had finished. "Perhaps today was more productive than I thought, then," he murmured, swirling his mug and staring into it. "There were several references by those with whom I spent my day to Black Boll, but not necessarily connecting him with activities here in Stock. But obviously he is well known to this hamlet. So then. What are the possibilities? That he is a thief, and has been the culprit in the disappearance of the Buckland shipments? That does seem likely, but on whose behalf? His own, or that of another party? And where is the missing Tobias? Is he dead or yet living and if so, is he connected with Nethercleft or not? Still so many questions, and yet the picture begins to form."

Well, this was beginning to range away from my ken, and then there was the case of the luminous white shoulder that appeared from time to time from under the blanket. One could really not be expected to keep one's mind on more sinister affairs in the presence of that enticement, I suddenly felt. After all, the previous evening had been entirely too short for my liking, and with the rain pounding out of doors the way it was, it was clearly time to let the rest of the world go by, stolen pipeweed and missing hobbits notwithstanding, and give one's attention to more imperative topics. Chief of which being precisely how long it would take to find ourselves in that bed which I had taken such care to warm.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The guttering stub of a candle dimly lit the room, for there was no window in this simple smial such as we were used to, but it was sufficient light for us. I lay beneath that beloved form, holding him tightly to my breast, and briefly considered how little it mattered that we found ourselves in this musty hole so far from home. We could have been anywhere, really, as long as I could draw him to me, and trace his eartip teasingly with my tongue, and thrust myself up against his exquisite weight, and sigh his name with adoration. All the world was, as always, nothing to me next to this miracle that had somehow found its way into my dreary life.

It was his long body pressed closely against mine, and his strong hands that ranged hungrily up my sides. It was his enticing mouth that found my neck, my throat, as I moaned helplessly and clutched him even more tightly to me. And it was his eyes, darkest and deep, into which I greedily gazed, made breathless by the extent of love and devotion that I saw there.

"Frodo," I gasped, drawing my hand between us, aching with yearning and desire. "I can't even tell you, my dearest, I love you so very much."

"I know, Sam, my Sam," came the tender response, as I felt his hand join mine. "But I promise you, my beloved, that I love you just as much. Hold to me, my dearest Sam, hold to me. I assure you that nothing, nothing at all will ever come between us if you but hold to me."

"Forever, Frodo, forever. I promise you that," I breathed, before words were no longer possible, and we fell into the delectable rhythm of flesh against flesh and heart melded to heart.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

We parted early the next morning, well before dawn. I had my elusive piscine prey to pursue, with which I must pretend to be obsessively interested, and Baggins needed to resume his role as a potential hobbit for hire. He encouraged me to find myself in the inn by afternoon, since the Buckland shipment was due to arrive in the next day or so, and engage Nethercleft in light conversation if at all possible.

But as he left before me, he drew me close before opening the door and gave me a long and lingering kiss. "Have a care, Sam my love," he murmured soberly, drawing back and fixing his gaze upon me. "There is word that Nethercleft is an unmitigated brute. Let him think you insubstantial, a perfect idiot if at all possible. And remember, should Merry show up early, that you do not know each other, although that does not mean you cannot make each other's acquaintance. Be cautious, dearest, be wary. I will be back tonight if at all possible."

"I will be waiting for you, Frodo," I breathed, folding myself in his arms and holding tightly to him. "Don't make me wait too long to hold you again. Days apart are long enough as it is."

"I couldn't agree with you more," he smiled warmly at me, with another quick kiss of my cheek. "Until then, Sam love." And he was gone into the swirling mists of the chilly damp morning.


	2. Chapter 2

I sat on my stone again, the fishing pole stuck firmly in the muddy ground, and watched the Stock piers once more. The weather was the same, a determined misty drizzle, the lack of fish was fortunately likewise the same, and the Stock dockside was as deserted as ever. With a sigh, I stared at the weathered sheds with the small boats stacked to the sides, and wiggled my toes in a very nearly vain attempt to keep them from freezing solid. It was a undeniably good thing, I decided gloomily, that I loved Baggins with all my heart, for this was an unrewarding occupation to say the very least, and nothing short of my absolute refusal to ever prove to be a disappointment to him was keeping me here.

Hour after miserable hour crept by, as I awaited the first plausible opportunity to make my way to the inn. I had long since concluded that those who did this for sport were unmitigated fools, that surely there could have been an alternative guise that I could have taken up which would have been more productive, and that I would give my left foot, which indeed I could not feel at the present, for a good hot plate of taters and onions. I had quite nearly reached the point at which I was prepared to toss the whole affair into the Brandywine with a hearty curse, and make my way back to the smial and sulk, taking my chances with Baggins' disapproval, when there was finally some indication of activity on the river.

A small watercraft with half a dozen crewmembers rowed out of the mist from the lower river. I watched it idly, supposing it to be a fishing vessel such as I had seen yesterday, until it was quickly joined by two more slightly larger watercraft. Curious, I watched this unlikely fleet, and suddenly had the peculiar notion that it might be a prudent move to remain unseen by those on board, whoever they might be.

Acting upon this instinct, I rose up from the stone I was using for a seat, taking the damp blanket upon which I had been sitting as well. I was fairly certain that the modest pole, planted in the mud, would go unnoticed, and did not wish to get any closer to the water's edge in order to retrieve it. There was a small tangled grove of willows not far from the riverbank, and it was within their shelter that I crept, and then peered out once again.

There was no sign that anyone had noticed my presence, as a sort of conference seemed to be taking place between those on board the three boats. They were not loud about it, and I heard no clear snatches of conversation, but their gestures seemed rather animated, and in the end, some sort of agreement must have been reached, as I could see some of the occupants of one boat clambering into the smaller one, which immediately set off from the other two. The other two slid back into the bend of the Brandywine, where a stand of reeds hid them from sight of the village, and it was instantly as if they had never been there.

The smaller vessel continued toward Stock and soon was pulling up to the pier, where it was met by, I was not in the least surprised to see, my acquaintance of the day before, Nethercleft. Standing on the deserted dock with an imperious air, he barked some sort of order, and the hobbits on the boat quickly scrambled out, tying up the boat to the dock in no time, and followed meekly at his heels into the village.

I contemplated this turn of events thoughtfully. There appeared to be eight to ten hobbits with him, approximately the same number as I had seen yesterday, but there had been nearly twice that many left behind on the two boats which had been hidden. Would they make their way into the village as well, or remain concealed to await whatever orders Nethercleft would chose to give them? What was their mission and why were so many needed?

Those were matters that I needed to discuss with Baggins, but there was something I must do first. Nethercleft, I had to admit, had awakened a sense of daring in my rather staid spirit. In my guise as a traveling gentlehobbit, I felt that I might be able to safely strike up a conversation again, and perhaps gain some valuable information unwittingly from him. I must confess to the temptation of teasing, just in the slightest, what was undoubtedly dangerous game, but the thought of how pleased Baggins would be, should I chance to learn something of import, was extremely alluring. I could almost hear his pleased laugh, and warm praise. And surely, what could possibly happen to a law-abiding gentlehobbit in the respectable village of Stock?

Thus it was that I returned to the inn, to take my chances with their shepherd's pie once again, and confront the menace that was Nethercleft.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It took me several moments to realize what was different as I entered the Leaping Trout, as the inn was annoyingly named, shortly before noon. The common room seemed crowded enough, but after a few moments I noticed that I was not seeing any of the regular patrons, whom I had come to recognize over the past few days. The assembly was boisterous and filled with bulky sorts who appeared to be well on their way to having the sort of night that one regretted the next morning, despite the fact that the sun, had one been visible under the thick layer of damp fog, must surely only just be reaching its zenith.

I instinctively looked about for the chief of this rowdy crew, and quickly spotted him at a place of honor near the fire, his back conveniently to me. I must admit I was of two minds at this point. The wise course of action would have been to sensibly retire to the smial and await Baggins' arrival later this night to inform as to what I had seen. The rash course of action would be to draw attention to myself, to bait this Nethercleft, and see what else I might learn. The choice of a reckless simpleton, without a doubt, and of course it was the one I chose.

Ordering my meal from the clearly cowed proprietor, I took the pro-offered mug in hand and made my way to the fire. "Beastly day, isn't it?" I interrupted his monologue to his underlings as I made myself at home one seat closer to the fire than the one in which he sat, and propped my feet up on a stool near the hearth with quite a proprietary air. Those near him fell instantly into a hushed silence, as I met his suddenly darkened face with what was, I have to admit, a distinctly idiotic grin.

I could hear the conversation of those surrounding us suddenly halted, the silence circling out from our center as the ripples in still water when one tosses a stone into a pond, and desperately hoped that I had not calculated incorrectly. For the space of at least a couple of minutes, all of the common room fell into a waiting stillness, except for my rapidly beating heart, which I was absolutely certain must have been audible to one and all.

He regarded me with a black stare, and then just when I had decided that if I made a sudden break for it, and gave the rather scrawny underling near the door a hearty kick, I might actually be able to escape this band of thieves, he burst into a loud guffaw. "Still looking for fish, are we?" he gave me a hearty clout on my shoulder, and I gave a well-concealed sigh of relief.

"Well, I did lease the smial for the week," I mentioned mildly, "and whether there are fish or no, I do hate to waste a perfectly good lodging."

"Indeed," he gave me a raised eyebrow. "I suspect we all have our own ideas of entertainment, don't we, then?"

"Ah, well, I might as well be here as anywhere else," I shrugged, with a hint of boredom. "I suppose I'll be moving on, soon enough, but the beer here is fairly decent, and sport is rather sparse, this time of year, no matter where one is."

"You interest me, Underhill," and I noted the lack of a title.

I shrugged and took a sip from my mug.

"Where would your people be from, then?" he continued, with the slightest note of malice creeping into his voice.

"Oh, up North Farthing way," I responded lightly, quickly trying to think of the most remote location I could. "I don't suppose you've heard of Far Bindle, have you?"

Thankfully, he continued to study me without a hint of recognition.

"A bit beyond that, you know." I saw with delight that my meal was approaching in the tremulous hands of the proprietor's scrawny young assistant. Surely I could not be expected to keep up my end of this exchange as I ate, which would leave me able to eavesdrop, should he chose to resume the conversation that had broken off at my approach. He studied me thoughtfully for a moment more, and then shrugged slightly, standing up and motioning to the proprietor himself, who left the safety of the bar quite rapidly and scurried over to us, spasmodically wiping a mug out with a dish towel.

"Has the shed been seen to?" Nethercleft asked him sternly. "Is it empty and swept out well? I expected my shipment tomorrow, and will be extremely ill-pleased if it has to stand out in the rain."

"Oh, yes, indeed it has," the innkeeper assured him, with a bit of a bow. "Quite tidy, just as you wish. I have seen to it myself, sir."

I could not help crooking an eyebrow at that address. Nethercleft did not strike me in the least as a gentlehobbit, but in this village, he seemed to be someone even more powerful than that.

But Nethercleft grunted in reply, and then turned about and barked orders to his crew in a tongue that I did not recognize in the least. I nearly bit my tongue at this turn of events, but continued to eat my meal as imperturbably as possible. With a thrill, I anticipated Baggins' reaction to this unexpected twist, and tried to fix some of the mysterious words into my memory. There was a guttural, harsh sound to them, and I suddenly thought of the men who we had encountered last year, who had been in Lotho Sackville-Baggins' company, although Nethercleft and his band were unmistakably hobbits.

With a final inscrutable glance at me, in which he seemed to me to be fixing my features firmly in his memory, Nethercleft strode out of the inn, with his crew trailing haphazardly behind, and I was left in the sudden hush, to finish my beer in company of the crackling flames and a pair of sluggish flies.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

I hardly let Baggins remove his cloak, later that night when he returned to the smial well after dark, before divulging my news. Eagerly, I told him of the two hidden boats, and the mysterious language that Nethercleft had employed, as I poured him a steaming cup of tea. His expression, which had been somewhat drawn, and even a bit haggard as he had entered, immediately flickered back to something more like normal, and he sank into the pile of cushions I had prepared before the fire with a grateful sigh and a deep draught of his tea.

"Excellent, Gamgee, very nicely done," he praised me with a warm smile, and I knew I would have marched in to the very mouth of a dragon for the sake of that look.

"Well, I was curious, and it seemed as though he was continuing to think me quite the fool, so I thought there'd be no harm in pushing it a bit." I settled quite close to him with my cup as well, turning my toes to the fire.

"All the same, my dear, it will not pay to play that card too often," he returned, his face growing suddenly serious. "Nethercleft is a dangerous and unpredictable quantity, and should be treated warily indeed. I must caution you, Sam dear, do not tempt him too often."

"Oh, I imagine I can take care of myself, well enough," I responded somewhat airily, before polishing off a good deal of my own tea. "Now, why don't you stay just as you are, and we can make a proper picnic of our meal here. No need to sit in those heavy chairs, is there?"

"Capital idea, my dear, since I really don't think I could move a muscle at the moment," he answered wryly, the fatigue settling back on his features. "Impersonating a working river hobbit is one thing, but actually carrying through with it is an entirely different matter. I thought I was in rather good shape, but apparently I had quite deceived myself about my capabilities."

I cast a quick glance at him, as I brought him his dinner plate, and found nothing amiss with his shape at all, but thought it prudent not to mention that fact for the moment.

"But tell me again, Sam," he continued as we ate, his curiosity piqued once again, "what were those words you heard?"

I repeated him, as best I was able, and he hummed thoughtfully, his eyes going distant and his food temporarily forgotten.

"An odd language indeed," he murmured, his fork waving absentmindedly in circles. "Certainly not any form of elvish, and although harsh, not dwarvish either. As you say, it has something of the flavor of the language of the men from the south whom we encountered in Lotho's company, and yet I think it is different, somehow. Certainly the mystery would lessen, if they were the same, and yet facts can't always be driven where one would have them go."

As I watched in fond bemusement, regretfully noting the food beginning to grow cold on his plate, he suddenly blinked, and seemed to return to the present. "Well, certainly a matter that deserves further consideration. However, Sam my dear, judging from the preparations regarding the shed, and the snippets that I have picked up from my end of it, the Buckland shipment is due in tomorrow, and with it, Merry. You must run into him, but in a natural sort of way, and invite him to visit for the evening. Bring him up to date on all we know, and I will try to join you later if at all possible. But remember what I told you, Sam dear. If I am unable to come, I will notch the tree, once for every night I expect to be gone. Be quite cautious around Nethercleft, and stick to Merry at all costs. He must not be allowed to be Nethercleft's next victim, if indeed that is what happened to Tobias. It seems preposterous that this scoundrel would dare to threaten the heir of Brandy Hall, and yet I do not put it past him, not in the least. And now, my dear, I must retire, for these infernal early mornings are not in the least to my liking," and he emphasized the point with a hearty yawn.

I nodded, and gave the room a quick glance. The dishes could be done in the morning; not a distasteful chore at all, as compared to my tedious vigil awaiting the mythical fish. I quickly banked the fire and pinched out the candles, following Baggins into the bedroom of our humble smial, where he was already shedding his clothing with all due speed. I followed suit, and pinching out this candle as well, crawled into the bed in the darkness.

"Ah, Samwise," I heard him sigh in the dark, as I fit spoonwise against his back, his arms clasping mine closely to him. "You are such a comfort, love. I can't imagine how I ever thought my life was worth living without you."

I buried my nose at the back of his neck and tightened my embrace, unable to speak for the moment. "I don't plan on being anywhere else, Frodo me dearie," I breathed, as soon as I was able. "Sleep now, love. Your Sam has you."

It wasn't long before his breathing fell into the steady rhythm of sleep, but I held him and treasured the feel of him in my arms for a long good while before I fell asleep as well.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

I had just barely arrived at my by now customary position the next morning at the river's edge, when the procession from Buckland broke through the mist, making its way up from the lower river. It was, I must admit, nearly mid-morning, for I had leisurely tidied up the smial before finally making my way to the riverbank with the greatest of reluctance. The fishing pole was stuck, once more, in the mud, but that was as far as I was prepared to go at this point in service of this ridiculous charade.

The Buckland contingent consisted of four large flat barges, and a couple of smaller more nimble boats, nudging the others along. To my relief, the figure of Meriadoc Brandybuck, with his tall frame and golden hair, was unmistakable, in the first boat, consulting with an older hobbit. The cargo, presumably Longbottom leaf, was well wrapped and neatly stacked in the barges, and there were several hobbits standing guard, with a wary eye, in each. Brandy Hall was, apparently, taking no chances with this last shipment.

I gave the Buckland flotilla time to dock at the Stock piers, and meet with the local officials, who quickly presented themselves, before I pitched my gear into a small patch of shrubbery, with a fervent hope to never be forced to retrieve it again, and then rapidly made my way to the inn, to meet up with Merry.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Brandybuck was seated at the table nearest the fire with a group of his hobbits, foaming mug in hand, as I entered the Leaping Trout. I gave a quick glance about, and did not see Nethercleft, but rather recognized some of his underlings at one of the farther tables, unabashedly watching the contingent from Buckland. Anything that occurred within the inn would immediately be known to Nethercleft, I had no doubt.

Ordering my standard lunch from the markedly calmer proprietor, I sauntered up to Brandybuck's table, my own mug in hand. "Brandybuck, wasn't it?" I mentioned cheerfully, standing hopefully near an empty chair.

"Er, um, Underhill, right?" Brandybuck stammered in the most natural manner, with a grin, as he sprang to his feet. "Still here for sport, I see?"

"Hope does spring eternal," I gave him a polite nod. "May as well be here as anywhere else, I suppose."

"Indeed," Frodo's cousin responded politely, indicating the empty seat. "Won't you join me?"

We chatted lightly as I finished my meal, and soon as I could, for Brandybuck's composure seemed to be a trifle thin from time to time, I rose and made my excuses. "If you're going to be about this evening," I mentioned, with a polite bow, "you're quite welcome to pop by my smial for a bite. Down at the end of the river road, red door. Nothing too extravagant, mind you, but a bit of company would be most welcome."

"Good of you, Underhill," he nodded, with a courteous smile. "I most certainly will, if at all possible."

As I left, I noticed that Nethercleft's underlings still had their attention fixed on Brandybuck, rather than myself, and gave a sigh of relief.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

To my great delight, as I approached our temporary shelter, I noticed a slight curl of smoke from the chimney low on the hill, and deduced that Baggins must have arrived before me.

As indeed he had. As a matter of fact, I found him very soundly asleep, still fully dressed but wrapped in a blanket and comfortably nestled in the pillows that I had left before the hearth, in lieu of any more substantial furniture. I knelt at his side for a few moments, stuck with the wonder with which one watches one's beloved when they are entirely unconscious of your gaze, and marvels, yet once again, how this utterly glorious creature could possibly be yours.

But Baggins seemed to have a sixth sense about being observed, and sleepily blinked and squinted up at me. "There you are, Gamgee," he murmured, his voice still slurred with sleep. "I thought you'd be showing up before long. Just thought I'd take the opportunity to catch a bit of sleep as it promises to be a very long night."

I took that as an invitation, and Baggins' low laugh quickly confirmed that fact, as I hastily ensured the lock in the front door was firmly in place, and shed my clothing with all due haste. "Come, now, Baggins," I pointed out, as I knelt next to him, "that clothing does not look at all comfortable. Surely it's bound to pinch you in the most unpleasant of ways."

He drowsily chuckled at my comment. "I suppose it does, my dear, but I was far too tired to care, when I lay down at first."

"And now?" I prompted him.

"Not nearly as tired," he smiled up at me, that certain light sparking in his eyes; an indication, as I had come to know, of delights to come.

And indeed they did, as we made short work, working together, of his garments, and then were in each other's arms. What can I say of the joy that we found there other than these precious stolen moments allowed us cast aside the rest of the world and admit to nothing else but the ecstasy and fulfillment that we found in each other? It was growing dark, although neither of us would have noticed, when we fell into a deep and thoroughly satisfied slumber, tightly wrapped together.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The rap upon the door was annoyingly insistent, as I cracked an eye open and then realized, to my alarm, that it must be Brandybuck. Hissing that information in Frodo's ear, I sprang to my feet, and snatched my clothing up. Hopping on one foot in the most ridiculous manner, I'm quite sure, I managed to get most of my clothing on, and Baggins prudently hastily retrieved his, and scrambled into our small bedroom.

Giving myself a final check to make sure that all was properly in place, I unlocked the door, and greeted our guest, impatiently shuffling his feet in the dusk, obviously chilled by the frosty evening drizzle.

"Not a fit night to be out, under any circumstances," he grumbled, as I opened the door to admit him. "Certainly took your time about it, Gamgee."

I began to respond, when I heard Baggins' voice behind me, greeting his cousin with amusement. "Don't be taking it out on poor Gamgee, old chap, we've a long night ahead of us, and I advised him to take a nap. Rum doings here, Merry, old thing. It's best to be prepared."

"Well, I'm not surprised in the least, but couldn't a fellow at least get a cup of hot tea before all misfortune breaks loose?" Merry continued to grouse, giving Baggins a brief nod and then thrusting out his hands to the fire to warm them. I hastened forward then, for Merry entirely had the right of it, to my mind, and thrust the kettle out over the fire, stirring it up a bit for good measure.

"Have a pillow," Baggins chuckled, seeing his cousin's eye fall on the pile of them in a heap before the fire. "Not much in the way of furniture here, but you'll find them surprisingly comfortable. I'll manage the tea," he added, turning to me with a warm smile, "if you can put together a bite for us to eat. We shall need all our strength tonight."

"Well then, Frodo, exactly what is going on here?' Merry asked impatiently as he made himself comfortable, and watched Baggins steep the tea. "That was without a doubt one of the most nefarious collection of scoundrels I've seen in a long time, assembled there at the inn. You and Gamgee have been here several days now. What have you discovered?"

"That your cargo shall disappear tonight," Baggins answered simply, glancing over his shoulder at Brandybuck.

"Not if I can help it," was the growl in response, but Baggins shook his head sternly.

"Indeed, Merry, that is precisely it. You must not try to stop it, for if I may say so, that will prove to be impossible. These are extremely dangerous villains and will not hesitate in the least to take a life in pursuit of their objective. They are not a local band of ruffians at all, but are being supported and funded by greater forces, possibly from even outside the Shire. What that force is needs to be discovered, and so we must play along with these rogues until we know more. I have been, indeed, hired by them in order to assist in lifting your cargo off the ships tonight. There is a storehouse for it here, but from then, where it goes I do not know. And that is a fact which I plan to uncover."

He turned to me then, and I could see, so very clearly, the suppressed excitement in his expression. "You must stick quite close to Merry, Gamgee. I do not think that they will take the chance of doing him an ill turn, but I cannot be absolutely sure of that. I plan on following along with Nethercleft's minions, until I know more. I will meet you both back here as soon as I am able, but remember our code. If I must be gone, I will try to mark the tree if at all possible."

"As you wish, Baggins," I responded, not caring for this plan in the least but putting the best face on it.

Brandybuck, holding his mug of hot tea unnoticed in his hands, glanced back and forth between the both of us and nodded at last. "Very well, then," he murmured, "I will leave it to the both of you. But this is certainly a grim situation to be in for the sake of some pipeweed."

"Undoubtedly," Baggins answered him darkly. "If indeed that is all that is at stake. That, however, is a matter that has yet to be determined."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Night had fallen in earnest as we left the smial, and made our way to the docks of Stock. It was unpleasantly damp, and the swirls of mist from the river promised to soon intensify and solidify into a thick fog. Baggins left us soon enough, to meet up with his fellow laborers at the inn, as he had been instructed earlier by Nethercleft's foreman, but I had a chance, as Brandybuck's back was to us, to quickly reach out and tightly grasp his hand. He smiled at me, and even though he had already taken the precaution of smearing his face with a bit of grime, and had covered his head with a well-worn cap, I could still see the warmth in his eyes as he returned my grip with his own. "Take care, my dear, and I will as well," he murmured so softly that Brandybuck never heard, but I did. I nodded, with a gulp, and almost wished I dare take another kiss, but there was a fork in the road ahead, and Brandybuck was beginning to turn around for directions, and so I quickly let go. With a last piercing glance, and an intimate smile, he was gone into the murky night.

"Well, I certainly hope you know your way about this depressing burg, for I swear I have no idea in the least which way town is," Brandybuck complained with a frown, stamping his feet to keep them warm. "And where on earth has Frodo gotten off to?"

"No idea. He doesn't tell me everything he's up to, you know," I replied a bit testily, not liking in the least the direction this whole affair was beginning to take. "That way, towards the river," I nodded, answering, at any rate, the first of his questions. "It's easiest to find the docks and go from there."

"I still don't see why I shouldn't join back up with my hobbits on our boats," he grumbled, as we cautiously trudged along the muddy path in the gloom. "I can understand that Frodo doesn't want us to strongly resist, if these fellows are as bloodthirsty as he claims them to be, but we could still put up a bit of a fuss instead of politely handing the cargo over to them."

"I believe the main thrust of what he was saying is that you are not to be on the boats," I returned, somewhat sharply. "Certainly there is no reason I could not give them that message, but I know he is concerned that they will not stop at taking you hostage."

"But that would be a capital idea," he turned to me, and even in the shadows, I could see the gleam of excitement in his eyes. "I could find out so much more about their plans, that way."

"Not if you are blindfolded and bound up like a bundle of dirty wash," I replied grimly, having been in that situation myself. "And you're assuming Baggins and I would be able to get you out of that fix. Need I remind you that we have seen nothing of your hobbit, Tobias?"

"Ah, yes, I suppose there is that," and his face fell. "Still, I think there would be no harm in your passing the word to at least Peder. He's the captain of the first boat, and the hobbit in charge when I am gone."

Much as I hated to disregard Frodo's explicit instructions, that did seem like a reasonable request. "Very well," I agreed. "I'll meet back up with you at the inn. You should be safe enough alone for a brief time, in such a public place. But I'll need some sort of token, so that they know I've come from you."

"A good point." He thought for a moment and then pulled out his pipe. "Here, Peder will recognize this well enough. But be sure to tell him if he allows it to come to any grief, he owes me a jug of that cider ale he does so well. With those apples my father never misses from the orchard. He'll know you're from me, then, sure enough."

I gave a snort of amusement. "You need to send some of that Bag End way, likewise. 'Tis been far too long since I've tasted a fine batch of cider ale. It's the least you can do for the trouble you've been to the two of us."

"Indeed, Gamgee, you've begun to sound positively like an old housewife," he grinned mischievously at me. "Where's your sense of adventure, old thing?"

With a guilty start, I realized that he was quite right. However, my sense of adventure was awakened in a direct proportion to my proximity to Frodo, a fact I though it prudent not to mention to him, so I gave a noncommittal grunt, and since we were approaching the outskirts of Stock, indicated the lights of the inn, hardly discernible in the gloom.

"There you go then. I should be joining you shortly. Try not to do any mischief, and do not leave, under any circumstance, until I'm back."

"Yes'm, Goody Gamgee," was his laughing response, and he was soon gone into the fog.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The flotilla from Buckland was still moored where they had been earlier that day, I found to my relief. Taut thick canvases covered the cargo that was neatly stacked on top of the low flat boats, and the lights were lit in the cabins below, where most of the crew would be waiting out the night in warmth, and at least a bit of comfort. Only a few stood sentinel on the upper decks, well-wrapped in thick cloaks and stoically smoking their pipes in the thick mist. I hailed the nearest boat, as I reached the end of the dock, and called out for Peder. Fortunately, he was in that boat, and after having been summoned up by the guard, gave me a wary look and shoved a small skiff out in the direction of the dock, manned by a rather disgruntled hobbit with a pole.

"Look lively, now, good sir, there'd be no need to be out in this damp any longer than needs be," my pilot grumbled, as I clumsily lowered myself into the rocking vessel.

I couldn't agree with him more on that point, for one would be hard pressed to find a hobbit who disliked being suspended above water more than I, but there was no time to waste as far as my returning to the inn, and trying to convince Peder that we should be having this conversation on land was clearly impractical. So I nodded without a word, clutched tightly to the sides of the tiny boat, and allowed myself to be ferried out to the barge.

Peder hauled me aboard with what was unmistakably a smirk, but that quickly disappeared as I explained by mission and produced Brandybuck's pipe. "So Master Merry'd just be wantin' us to sit back and let these villains make off with the leaf?" he asked me incredulously. " 'Tis hard to believe that, now, sure enough!"

"It is only for the time being," I assured him. "Just until Brandybuck, Baggins and I can determine exactly what's behind this whole plot."

"Oh, well, now, you say Mister Baggins is in on this likewise? Mister Frodo Baggins, that would be?" he exclaimed, his face immediately clearing. "Indeed, that is an entirely different matter altogether! Very well, then, I'll pass a word to the lads. We'll put up a bit of a fight, just so's they won't suspect nothing, but then lay low until we get further word."

"Absolutely the best plan," I agreed, gratified to find that Baggins' name had had such an effect. "Now if you don't mind, I must be back to the inn. I'm not to know anything about you all, you see."

"Aye, sure enough, lad. Underhill, you said your name was? Off w'you then, and tell them as we'll be followin' through, sure enough," Peder chuckled, and I bobbled my way back to shore.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The light from the windows of the inn shone through the fog with a welcome gleam, but there was something that struck me as wrong as I approached. Only as I put my hand on the handle of the weathered door did I realize what it was.

No inn had the right to ever be this silent, I realized, even as I was in the act of pulling the door open. Not surprising, since it was, as far as I could see, absolutely deserted. Signs indicated, however, that it had not been long so. Full tankards and mugs still lay on the tables, along with plates full with dinner, but there were also a few mugs and plates overturned on the floor. The fire crackled cheerfully but there was not a soul in front of it.

With growing fear and concern, I looked about the place, and called out, not caring at this point that I might be overheard. Surely an uninvolved patron, as I still hoped to be considered, might be allowed some alarm at a scene such as this.

Finally I heard a rustle behind the broad bar, and a small lad, no more than a teen, popped his terrified face over the counter.

"What's all this now?" I exclaimed, trying to maintain a reassuring expression for his sake, despite my increasing apprehension. "Looks like a whirlwind swept everyone out."

" 'Twas no wind," the lad quavered, still clutching the counter with whitened knuckles. "Ain't no wind as comes blowin' in with knives and staffs. 'Twas Nethercleft's ruffians," and he paused here to spit contemptuously on the floor, "as took all the decent folk, and the master, too, off w'them. Tied 'em up and hauled them off, and hurt some of them pretty bad likewise."

"Did they say why or where?" I breathed in horror.

But the lad just shook his head. "Just summat about not allowing any prying eyes to be left behind," he gulped. "The master, he shoved me under the counter when he seen them burst in, but he ain't had no time t'hide himself. An' he was that good a master t'me, too," he added with tears unmistakably ready to follow.

But there was one more piece of information I had to have. "Tell me, lad," I questioned him fervently, "was there a gentlehobbit here too? Brandybuck by name, tall with yellowish hair?"

"Oh, aye, I had noticed him right off, since the master seemed right pleased to have him here. I didn't see what happened to him proper, since I was under the counter, but I did hear him call something out as they burst in, someone's name."

"What was the name?" I urged him, intently. "Think, lad, it's that important!"

"Not one as I knew," he paused for a moment, with his tears postponed as he thought with deliberation. "Thomas, was it? No, that ain't right. Ah, 'twas Tobias!"

For some reason, that answer did not surprise me in the least.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

There was a growing pit of fear in my stomach as I rushed out into the dank night and made my way back to the dock with all the speed I could. The dock, when I reached it, was still lit by the one dim lantern hanging on the old post, as it had been earlier that evening, but there was one difference in the scene presented by its flickering light. The boats from Buckland were not there. Desperately, I ran to the end of the pier and scanned the river as far as it could be seen, but it was useless. They simply were not there, just as if they had never been.

There was one more matter left to be determined, and I snatched up the old lantern and scrambled down the muddy path from the dock, making my frantic way to the outskirts of that accursed town.

I knew what I would find before I held the lantern up in my trembling hand, and yet I had to look. Three slashes on the tree were there. Frodo was gone, and I was alone.


	3. Chapter 3

I sank down and sat under the marked tree, at the side of the road, with my knees drawn up and my face buried in my arms. It wasn't as if this turn of events was unexpected, but that still didn't make it any easier to bear. The lantern, which I had thoughtlessly dropped at my side, lay in the middle of the path, flickering weakly and threatening to go out altogether, but that really didn't matter that much to me at the moment, for I had no idea of where to go nor what to do next.

Brandybuck was gone, as were his hobbits, his boats, Nethercleft and his crew, and apparently some of the townfolk as well. Not to mention the disappearance that caused me the most concern, that of Frodo. Grief and apprehension threatened to engulf me, but I angrily resisted that option. There was no point at all in remaining in this miserable village and waiting to see if anyone turned up, but the question was, where to go?

As the rain began to come down harder, I rose and grimly decided to return to the smial while I could, since the lantern light was beginning to die out. There, I needed to collect my thoughts and do what Frodo, I know, would have done. In other words, rationally examine the facts at hand, not allowing myself to be swayed by emotion, and reach a logical conclusion. And upon that, I would act. It was entirely possible that it would be completely the wrong conclusion to make, but the fact of the matter was that I had to do something. I had been in error once before, and had accidentally assumed the worst, leaving Baggins to slowly make his way back to Bag End with a good deal of suffering in the process, on his part, and misery on mine. I would not be making that error again.

With renewed determination, I strode through the blustering rainy night, and passed, as the path back to the smial happened to take me, the Leaping Trout once again. It suddenly occurred to me that there might have been a clue within that I failed to notice previously, so I cautiously peered inside through the door, which had been left flung open. I could see no one, but there was a sound that caught my attention, a soft, snuffled sort of sound. Without a doubt, someone was crying, and I immediately realized who.

I found him where he had been earlier, hidden in a compartment behind the counter. "Hey, there, now, me lad, ain't you best be goin' home?" I asked in my gentlest tones, unconsciously reverting back to the patterns of speech from my youth.

His head cautiously lifted from his arms, where he had hidden it, and he eyed me warily. "Am at home," he muttered, with a stray sob. " 'Tis it."

"Don't you have a family, then?" I questioned him gently. "Some one you could stay with? 'Twon't do t'be lingerin' here, noways."

His eyes grew a little wider as he realized what I was implying, but he shook his head again. "Me master was my mam's cousin," he whispered. "Ain't got no more family. And he had no more, likewise. 'Twas but the pair o'us."

"Well, then." I sat back on my heels and studied him for a moment, but there was clearly only one thing to be done. "Then you must come with me, at least for the moment. Staying here would not be at all safe, not in the least."

A small smile crept across his tear-stained face. "You ain't a gentlehobbit, now, are you." And it wasn't a question.

I had to smile back in return. "Not a bit of it, my lad, but I am a healer, and some hot food in you and a warm safe smial in which to stay is what I'm recommending."

The smile broadened, and he withdrew from the compartment and stood up, a bit shakily, before me. "Thankee kindly, sir; that sounds right nice."

Well, "sir" certainly wouldn't do, so I gave him a most gentlehobbitly bow and held out my hand. "Samwise Gamgee, at your service," I declared politely, entirely forgetting my alias.

But he had not. "Willium Briarfoot," he responded, shaking my hand in return. "But most call me Bobbin. Gamgee ain't what you called yourself before," he added, with what was now a most impish grin.

"Indeed it was not," I replied solemnly. "But then there is much about me you do not yet know, Master Bobbin. However, be that as it may, I would urge us to leave this place promptly, for the night is wet and cold, and that warm smial of which I spoke is still a ways off."

His grin faded slightly at that warning, but his chin lifted with determination, and he gave me a short nod of agreement.

We left the doors of the inn as open as I had found them.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Bobbin lay deep in exhausted sleep, wrapped in a blanket and nestled in the pillows before a crackling fire, as I sipped my third mug of tea, the remnants of our hasty dinner still on the table about me. As much as I was desperate to be doing something, I had realized that I would find no clues on this stormy night, but rather had to patiently await the dawn. But there was no harm in going over the facts, at least once more.

The possible methods of hiding or making off with such a large number of hobbits was my first question to consider. They could possibly be hidden somewhere in Stock, but it was really quite a small village. The crew from Brandy Hall most have numbered at least two score or so, and counting any townsfolk who had been swept along as well, that totaled at least thirty. This seemed the least likely of possibilities, but I planned to send Bobbin to have a look about the next day, just in case. Looking for his master would give him a good excuse.

The more likely possibility was that they had all been spirited out of the village. If they had left on their legs, daylight should reveal the traces of such a march, and that was one thing I planned on investigating, come daylight. In this case, the boats could have very likely been sunk, once the cargo was offloaded. And as swift as the Brandywine flowed, there might be very little evidence of that come morning.

The more probable route out, however, was by water, which would also explain the disappearance of the boats. The question was then, of course, in which direction had the boats gone? An incorrect answer to that question would take me farther and farther from them, and most especially, I will not be reticent, my beloved Frodo.

Worn and exhausted from the events of the evening, and the depressing circling of thoughts in my mind, I finally made my way to the empty bed in the back room of the smial, and fell into deep sleep.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The morning was clouded, with a damp chill to the air, but at least the rain had stopped for the time being. I had sent Bobbin off to enquire about the village for news of his master, and cautioned him to tell anyone who should ask that he had been out gathering firewood to bring in to dry when the whole affair took place. There was no sense in giving anyone cause to regard him as a witness. If there was no news, however, he was to stop by the inn and collect whatever food that might do to take with us, and whatever warm clothing he might have. I was determined not to sit idly by and await events, and it seemed prudent to have him with me and out of harm's way, for the time being.

I, myself, inspected the area for clues of any sort. Nethercleft's boats, which had been hidden from view of the docks were, as I had surmised, gone as well. I carefully examined every path, road, or trail out of the village, hoping for some sign that a number of travelers had gone that way. The muddy roads revealed nothing, but the night's rain could have taken care of that. I had, eventually, to conclude that they had left by way of the river, which led to the inevitable question of the direction.

Bobbin did, however, have an interesting piece of information to tell when we met up back at the smial a couple of hours later. " 'Tis empty," he informed me, as he followed me inside, dropping a sack of supplies on the rough table.

I'm afraid I stared rather blankly at him for a moment. "The inn?" I ventured, frowning. "I would certainly hope no one would be making themselves at home there."

"Ah, no, not that," he waived his hand in an impatient gesture. "Locked it up but good, I did. Not a few in town who wouldn't mind helpin' themselves to the master's brew whilst he's gone. No, that supply shed, as he had me sweep out."

"Oh, yes," I suddenly remembered the conversation between the proprietor and Nethercleft. "He was going to have something stored there, wasn't he? Did your master ever tell you any more on that matter?"

Bobbin shook his head. "Nay, just t'be cleanin' it out but good," he replied. "But whatever was a'goin' in there never did."

"How very interesting," I murmured, trying my best to piece it together the way Baggins would have. "So possibly not all went as planned. Now what could have happened differently?"

And then the thought struck me. "Brandybuck!" I exclaimed, as Bobbin watched me shrewdly. "He was in the inn and not on ship as planned."

"An' he knew someone," the lad reminded me quickly. "Called out 'Tobias', he did, and that's when it all blew up."

Well, that was something, but in any case, it did us no good in figuring out the essential dilemma, which was where had they gone? There was no putting off the decision any longer. "I'm following them to the south," I took a deep breath and informed my companion. "If they had been heading north, it seems to be that they would have held to the river longer rather than intercepting them here. And the fact that there was some one amongst them who was known by Brandybuck, and the very hobbit, indeed, for whom he had been looking, leads me to think that the answer may lay closer to Brandy Hall than here. In any case, we need to follow them in the same manner, which is to say, by boat. Do you know how I could lay my hands on a sturdy craft?"

"Master had one," Bobbin responded promptly. "I've used it often enough for fishing, or just to lie out in. Nobut to be botherin' you when you're in the middle of the river, see." That was welcome news, since my skills with any sort of water craft could be considered rudimentary only if I was to be complementary about the matter.

"Then we'd best be off, Captain Bobbin, before others start getting curious as to where we are going and why." I grabbed up the pack I had made for myself earlier that morning and snuffed out the fire. "Leave the door unlocked, lad, I don't suppose we'll be back."

Bobbin gave a cheerful nod, snatching up his pack as well, and we made our way to the river.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The next couple of days were spent making our way painstakingly down the Brandywine. The river itself flowed southwards to, so I've been told, the distant sea, so the center of the river was where one traveled if one wished to make good time. But since I was not in the least sure that we were traveling in the right direction, and additionally wished to pay very close attention to the shore in hopes of finding evidence of any camp of a large group of hobbits, I directed Bobbin to pole us close to the shoreline, and proceed with all due care.

I still found it difficult to forget the fact that we were suspended over several feet of flowing water in a boat which had, even to my neophyte eyes, a considerable amount of usage, and I must confess that I could never get it quite out of my head how Frodo's parents had died, for indeed they were the only hobbits I had ever heard tell of who had met their fate in this manner, but there were times, when the sun shone weakly through the woolly clouds, and the scent of damp woods was strong and rich from the shores, that I nearly forgot what a perilous mission we were engaged upon, and I lost myself in dreams and memories. It was in one such moment, as Bobbin good-naturedly and tirelessly poled us downstream, that I caught sight of an elderly hobbit briskly making his way along the faint path that ran alongside the shore of the river.

I very nearly upset our small craft as I realized there was something familiar about the gait of the traveler, and the way he held his head, but as I did not wish to alert my companion, in case Baggins had reason to remain unknown, I hastily motioned to the shore and abruptly declared, "I thought I saw something, just now, that looks like an encampment of some sort. To the shore, Bobbin, and quickly!"

Bobbin peered in the direction in which I had pointed, with justifiable bewilderment, as there was indeed no sign of anything of the sort, but dutifully did as I had asked. As he drew near the reedy shore, I leaped out of the boat, as soon as I judged the water no more than waist-high, and with a final curt command to stay in the boat until I returned, I scrambled through the muck and rushes as quickly as I was able, and reached the muddy shore. The hobbit whom I had noticed had seen our approach as well, had drawn back from the path and was standing near a small thicket nearby awaiting my arrival. With a burst of delight I recognized the smile with which he greeted me, and without a word, grabbed his arm and pulled him deeper into the thicket and out of sight of any passers-by.

At that point, before I had a chance to utter his name, I found myself swept up into a firm embrace, and with my back suddenly against a sturdy pine, his mouth was on mine, demanding and yet so loving. It must have been several minutes before we reluctantly broke apart, but then I could never account for time properly when I was with him. But this was not the time nor the place for anything more, so I found my voice, and with my arms still firmly around him, asked, "What is going on here, Frodo?"

"I assume you have no questions about this particular moment," he chuckled warmly, with a wry smile, "so you undoubtedly mean the rest of this matter. Nethercleft and the rest of his hobbits are not far ahead, as well as Merry and the other captives, and are hidden in their lair in these hills. But you were not with them as I thought you'd be, and I was afraid. . . " and here he broke off abruptly and found my mouth once again.

I was nothing loathe to allow him to continue to allay his anxiety in this manner, and joined into the proceedings rather heartily, but eventually he drew back and continued. "It was illogical of me to suppose the worse, Sam, and certainly there was no evidence for that supposition, but I've found it very difficult to be at all rational about you, my dearest."

"Oh, Frodo," I could but breathe, enchanted once more by the depth of love that was so evident in his admittedly grimy face. "I can't tell you how very glad I am to hear that."

The corner of his mouth twitched up again, in his characteristic quirk of a smile, but with a hasty but gentle final kiss, he peered past me to where my companion awaited in our boat. "You must have been indeed desperate, Sam-love, to have been following us in that cockleshell. And who is your young companion? I believe that I have seen him before."

"That would be Willium Briarfoot, best known as Bobbin, and late of the Leaping Trout. His master was taken along with the rest, and I found him hiding in the inn. He'd nowhere else to go, and I didn't like the thought of leaving him behind, and so brought him along with me. But with great good luck, he knows how to manage the craft, and with greater good luck, I guessed the right direction in which to go, and so here we are."

"Don't be so modest, my dear Sam, I expected no less resourcefulness and shrewd thinking on your part," he chuckled and gave me a last embrace. "Well, it appears as if young Bobbin's curiosity is getting the best of him, so we should probably join him. But for now, I think I will remain in my role. Name's Toddy, by the way," he muttered over his shoulder as he exited the thicket, "and I believe that I shall become somewhat shorter."

I followed, but with my heart full of joy once again and feeling, I must admit, inordinately chuffed over his unexpected complement.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Bobbin wasted no time in questioning as to what relationship might exist between our two unlikely selves, once he heard that Toddy had come directly from the location we had been seeking. "Had enough o'that villain," Baggins muttered for the lad's benefit. "Thought I'd best be lookin' for some help, and remembered what a fine upstanding sort of gentlehobbit Mr. Underhill here was. Thought he might be the one t'see."

We had set off on our journey once again, in the flimsy craft that apparently could hold three passengers, to my great surprise and relief, and Bobbin was occupied once again in steering the craft away from the shores, but he gave us a mischievous glance on hearing Baggins' explanation. "Oh, you'd be meanin' Mr. Gamgee, I believe," he said blandly, and turned back to his task.

I turned a trifle rosy, as Baggins shot me an amused look. "Mr. Gamgee, is it? Why, I must have heard wrong. Ah, well, a name is but a name, but look sharp now, Master Bobbin, see that bend up ahead, where the willow bends down? We want to be tucking this boat right in that cove. Anything past that, an' we'll be in sight of Nethercleft's ships."

"Are they that close then?" I asked, feeling a thrill of excitement. "What of the ships from Buckland? Are they here, too?"

"Sunk," Baggins gave a succinct answer, his expression suddenly grim. "And a couple of hobbits with them. Aye, Nethercleft's a villain, no mistake."

As we approached the shore, though, Bobbin suddenly ceased his navigation of our craft and gave the faint path that ran alongside of the river a closer scrutiny. "Why, I know this village," he turned to me in some surprise. "Just never came by river afore, that's all." Pointing to a stand of birch a mile up the shore, he continued, "Just there, where the trees are all in a clump? Halfthistle lies only a bit beyond."

"How did you come to know that, Bobbin?" I asked in astonishment, never thinking the lad might have left his native village.

"There's a farmer on the far side as grows the best hops in the farthing, or so my master alus said," he replied confidently. "Farmer Browning, and he has a lad my age. My master brought me along most times, when he came to buy, t'give me a bit of a holiday. He was kind like that,' he added softly, his eyes suddenly filling with tears.

"Then we must fetch him back as soon as ever," Baggins murmured, with a firm nod. "And you might be the one to do it."

Bobbin gave him a curious glance, distracted from his somber thoughts for the moment. "You ain't no dockhobbit, likewise," he declared finally, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"You see, Baggins, what a fine co-conspirator we have acquired. There is positively no putting anything past Master Bobbin."

"Indeed, that certainly seems to be the case," Baggins agreed with amusement. "In which case, I shall be more than delighted to stand up properly. Acting the part of an older hobbit can certainly put a strain on the back."

"Then who are the pair o'you, anyways?" Bobbin gazed steadily at both of us in turn. "Would you be constables, then?"

"Somewhat of that sort," Baggins answered, his expression turning grave. "We are assisting the Master of Buckland, if you must know."

"The Master of Buckland?" Bobbin's eyes grew quite large at the thought of that fabled personage.

"Just so," Baggins nodded. "And so may we be assured of your assistance?"

"Aye, t'be sure!" Bobbin gave a delighted grin. "Just give me the word."

"Very well, then, you can be a great help to us." Baggins grasped the rope at our feet and expertly tossed it out, landing the looped end on a stump that was at the water's edge, and giving it a sharp tug. "There, that ought to hold us nicely. We may be needing it yet, and I would regret not being able to return it to its rightful owner."

After we clambered out, some of us less gracefully than the others, we slogged through the mud onto the shore. Baggins tugged the boat up onto the land and quickly flipped it over. Tossing a few branches over the top of it, he gazed at the result with satisfaction. "That will do," he murmured.

I grinned when I realized what he had done. "Appears to have been abandoned quite awhile ago," I approved. "No one will suspect anyone having come this way in that," and Bobbin nodded in agreement.

"Very well, then," Baggins gave an appraising glance around us. "Here is what we shall do then." And he explained his plan to us.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

I made my way into Halfthistle and found the local inn, a prosperous and well-populated establishment, and quickly made myself known to the local clientele as a itinerant healer. Such were not unknown, in locations where there was not sufficient need for an established healer, and in general, it was quite an easy proposition to thus get on the locals' good side, at least if one had any skill whatsoever. And, without false modesty, I must admit that I indeed had exactly that.

So as the afternoon progressed, I examined trick knees, mysterious lumps, rashes of every sort and description, infants in the very peak of health, and the most striking of coughs. As there also appeared to be a lack of makers of potions and ointments in the area, I sent the populace off to find various herbs and barks, and indeed ended up with quite a full evening ahead of me. I began to wonder at Baggins' suggestion in following this course, but then realized that I was gaining good will that I could not have obtained in any other way, and that good will was what we were heavily counting upon, if our plan was to succeed.

The other two were to meet me here at the inn, as the sun began to set, so I was relieved to see Bobbin make his way unobtrusively to the back of the inn, and Baggins, still in guise of a working riverhobbit, not long later. There were no other travelers this evening, fortuitously enough, so I promptly had the guest room to myself, and not long afterwards, both of my co-conspirators found their way in through the window, as we reconnoitered in the dusty room which was obviously more often used as a store room.

"Gamgee, you have done a magnificent job, without any doubt," Baggins declared upon entering through the glass, which I had propped open. "I noticed, as I passed through the common room, that the clientele appears to regard you as the most gifted luminary to pass this way in a very long time."

"Well, if they had a proper healer in these parts, I would not have been nearly such a sensation," I could not help grumbling, thinking of all the potions that I was expected to produce before morning. "Do light that fire, if you don't mind, Baggins, this tincture must start seeping as soon as possible, if it's to be in the least effective tomorrow."

"So, then, Bobbin, what information were you able to gather?" Baggins prompted the lad, as he stretched out on the bed after the fire crackled to life, with a grateful sigh. "And Gamgee, old dear, if you wouldn't mind throwing on a kettle as well, and I do believe that is exactly what I see on the chair in the corner, I would be most eternally grateful for some tea."

Bobbin cocked up an eyebrow at his familiarity, still clearly not quite sure of what to make of Baggins, but answered the first question readily enough.

It seemed as if the farmer's lad recognized Bobbin right off, and received his tale of his master's disappearance most sympathetically. Indeed, he had insisted on taking Bobbin to his father and having him repeat the tale for his benefit. They did not ask, most fortunately, any questions as to how Bobbin had managed to track him to this vicinity, but there was no doubt in their minds that his master's fate was connected with the reappearance of the wild hobbits in the hills. A few of the ruffians had, as a matter of fact, come by the farm just a day ago and had made off, leaving only a token gratuity, with a considerable amount of their provisions, not to mention a specked hen of which his good wife had been quite fond.

Baggins nodded with gratification at that news. "Just as I surmised," he searched in his pocket for his pipe. "The townsfolk have had just about enough of this lot. I found exactly the same sentiment in my investigations. We should be able to put our plan into action tomorrow without any delay."

Bobbin looked quite hopeful at that news. "It can't be none too soon," he agreed heartily. "I don't like the thought of what might be goin' on with my poor master, no ways."

"Most commendable of you," Baggins agreed, taking the pipeweed pouch I handed to him without comment. His own particular blend was not one to be used in public under any account. "Where did you tell your informant you were going, when you came here?"

"Well, they said as they would be glad to have me stay with them for a bit. Farmer Browning said that it was time someone looked into this mess, and that he would get together with a few others as thought the same tomorrow. I told him that I had been traveling with the healer, but that I would stop by the inn and let you know, and be back directly."

"Excellent. Then you must make sure that when the farmer and his friends get together tomorrow to discuss this that they do so here at the inn. Most likely they would do so anyway, but you must make sure of it. There will be others of a like mind here as well, I may as well tell you, and we must be certain that we guide them into working together. We will need a certain amount of support if we are to be successful."

Bobbin nodded solemnly, and was immediately out of the window just as quickly as he had entered it.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The aroma of pungent herbs filled the room as I went on with my business of preparing tinctures and pounding herbs in my small mortar bowl that I always kept in my pack. Baggins, after a brief rest, was soon silently at my side, assisting me as he had so many times before. "If you wouldn't mind," I murmured, caught up in my concoctions. "Those leaves need to be washed out thoroughly first. I'm sure I saw another basin over in that jumble in the corner. I need to go fetch some more water anyway." Baggins nodded, and I left the room, carefully closing the door behind me. Knowledge of Baggins' presence might cause some questions that we were best off to avoid, for the time being.

The innkeeper quickly obliged me with a couple of buckets of water, and politely enquired if I should like any further dinner sent to my room. I was providing him quite a good deal of unexpected business, and he was delighted to help me in any way, so I took advantage of his offer and asked for a large portion of fried sausages, onions, and tomatoes, as well as a good country loaf and a bottle of decent wine, if he had anything of the kind. Naturally, I was not expecting to consume it all myself, a fact that I prudently withheld from him.

Baggins had been busy, as I found upon my return, and with relief, I realized that there was little now left to do, other than let the various medications steep and simmer. "I ordered a rather substantial dinner," I announced, stirring the larger kettle, and watching him out of the corner of my eye. "You are looking decidedly ragged, if I might say so."

A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. "You and the Widow will take care of that predicament, as soon as we are back at Bag End," he replied, with a slight shrug. "There are more important matters with which to be concerning myself at the present than regular meals."

"One must maintain one's strength," I blandly mentioned, moving closer. "After all, I'd rather not be gouged by your hipbones, if at all possible."

I was rewarded by a rich chuckle for that comment. "Well, that certainly is a consideration, my dearest." He turned to me, his distinctive eyes glinting dark in the firelight. "I would hate to not appear my best for you, Sam-love."

All sternness in my manner instantly vanished at that sight, and I swept him into my arms, holding him closely and burying my nose in the crook of his neck. "Did you really come back for me, Frodo, my love?" I breathed, feeling joy surge me once again at the feel of that form in my embrace. "Even in the midst of all of this?"

"Nothing at all will ever keep me from you, Sam, my beloved," I heard his fervent response, as his mouth found my eartip, and I shuddered with deep longing for more. "I was concerned and, as I believe I mentioned before, I am not at all rational in regards to you."

"Oh, Frodo, oh!" I could not help but moan, and that was precisely the moment there was a sharp rap on the door.

With a low muttered curse on my part, and a low chuckle on his, he vanished behind a stack of boxes on one side of the room, and I opened the door to allow the beaming proprietor and his struggling assistant to enter with quite a feast in their hands. "I took the liberty," the innkeeper motioned to the additional food with pride. "All on the house, Master Underhill. You are more than welcome in these parts. We've no healer since Grammer Gossage took ill of summer fever last winter. Or was it the other way around? No matter, I was always a'tellin' her that she ought to be training that young helper of hers better, but there was just no telling her nothing at times. He gave it a try, after she was gone, I'll give him that, but it was all too much for him, and he left for East Nook, where he'd come from, since he had a sister who'd married the sheepherder there, as lived far out in the hills. . ."

"Indeed," I interrupted him hastily, since he showed no sign of running out of information any time soon. "Quite interesting, without a doubt, but it would be a shame to let this wonderful meal go all cold, and I still have one or two matters left to take care of tonight. I shall bring the plates back in the morning then? It would be rude of me to keep you up, and this one particular potion might take awhile. So kind of you, thank you ever so much!" and under my onslaught of politeness and my herding the two of them towards the door, I was finally able to firmly shut it behind then, and to my relief, lock it as well.

Baggins emerged, slightly dustier, and in the throes of silent laughter. "So the poor lad took off, eh?" he shook his head in amusement. "I can't possibly imagine why. Well, there's no doubt but that our good innkeeper is the center of information in these parts, and exactly the person we want to involve tomorrow. And with great good fortune, he seems to hold you in high regard, my dear."

"Ah, 'tis always the way before we give the medicine out," I gave a wry laugh. "Whether or not we keep that regard depends on what happens after that. In any case, I propose that we do not scorn his offering, because this looks to be as tasty a meal as I've had in a very long time."

And indeed it was. We feasted, and sipped the wine, and laughed and spoke of matters both consequential and not, as the pots gradually simmered and eventually cooled. The fire in the neglected hearth slowly went out, the stars all left the sky, and in time we found ourselves in each other's arms in the dusty bed, and cared not for that dust or the occasional cobweb, or anything else in all the Shire but the touch of a tender hand, the sound of a beloved voice, and the passion we found together. Strange might be the situation in which we had found ourselves, and there was danger to be faced the next day, but none of that could diminish the bliss of the moment, the rapture and deep peace we found together. The moon was nearly gone from the sky when at last we fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

It was the sharp rap on the door the brought both of us to our senses, the next morning, for Frodo had not left at dawn's first light as he had planned.

"In a moment, in a moment," I called out rather sharply, for my dreams had been extraordinarily pleasant, but Frodo was already scrambling out of bed and donning his ragged garments once again.

The sound of footsteps faded down the hallway, but Frodo shook his head ruefully, as I silently implored him back to bed again, and murmured, "I meant to leave far earlier than this, Sam, dear. I'm quite sure I do not know what to do about this odd effect you have on me, but all logic seems to escape me in your presence." Bending over me, he kissed me tenderly, and then made his way over the boxes and other paraphernalia to the window. "I'll be back to the inn with rest of the like-minded riverhobbits in a few hours, Sam. In the meanwhile, talk to your patients today, and determine how many will stand with us. Today is the day I mean to bring this to a head. Take care in all that is to come, Sam, my love, and I will do the same." Then he was gone, in the white misty morning, and I was alone.

I brought the dishes back to the kitchen, feeling rather guilty about my sharp tongue, and was astounded to find, already sitting in the large common room, a good many of my patients from the day before awaiting the various medicines and poultices that I had spent the previous evening concocting. "My, my," I muttered in some consternation, as the proprietor grinned, and handed me a hot mug of tea.

"Expect as you'll be that busy this morning," he chuckled. "I'll have a bit of breakfast sent in, and my lad is at your disposal. I must say, this is as fair as an amount of business as I've had in many a day, and no mistake. But there just might be another reason for them all showing up besides their aches and pains."

As indeed there was. I could hear the conversations about me, as I met again with each ailing hobbit in turn, and the return of the wildhobbits, as they called them, in the hills was the chief topic of conversation. Baggins had been quite right about the timing, I realized, for they definitely had the look of a group of hobbits who had been pushed to the brink by the marauding band led by Nethercleft. As I listened, and asked a question or two as I took care of my patients, and nibbled my breakfast as best I could, a better picture of the whole situation began to fall into place.

Apparently, Nethercleft's hobbits had used the caves in the hills not far from Halfthistle for quite a few years now. This portion of the Shire had unusually porous rock, and the hills to the east and south were known to have quite a number of large caves. They were a desperate looking lot, and the folk of the village made sure they kept their distance, but otherwise the two groups had uneasily coexisted, until this past summer. Traffic on the river had then taken a sharp upturn, and there seemed to be cargo coming from the river to the caves on a more regular basis than before. Any curiosity on the part of the villagers had been strongly discouraged, and there were even reports of one or two of the more curious of the townsfolk having disappeared altogether. There had been talk of sending a delegation of inquiry to the caves but, in the end, fear won out, and none went.

This autumn, however, matters had become even more strained, since the interlopers were becoming not at all loathe to descend upon the local farmers and make off with what provisions they saw fit to take, with only a pittance for payment, and often not even that. The conclusion was clear. Something must be done. But it was obvious to me that until they had some sort of leader, nothing would.

I kept them engaged in conversation, however, after I finished my attentions, and it did not hurt the situation at all that it was a chilly and mizzling day out of doors, conducive to lingering about where there was a warm fire and plenty of company. And it was not more than an hour before that company was increased by the arrival of Bobbin and his party. Farmer Browning was clearly a hobbit of some standing in the community of Halfthistle, and his position on the matter was sought immediately. Before too long, the consensus was clear. The ruffians must be flushed from the caves and the community be rid of them for good. The question of exactly how was, unfortunately still fairly vague, but that situation was to change quite soon.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was a very different Baggins who abruptly entered the inn, with a score of grizzled river hobbits behind him, than the old and bent hobbit he had presented himself to be on the shores of the Brandywine the previous day. No, now he held himself tall and proud, and his eyes blazed from his begrimed face in a manner that was wondrous to see. There was no doubt in the heart of every hobbit present that a leader had unexpectedly appeared before them. A startled hush fell across the room as he began to speak, and I could no more have helped the pride that swelled my heart than stop my very breath.

"There is a villain in your midst, the like of which the Shire has rarely seen," he jumped atop a sturdy barrel near the door so that all could see who spoke. "You all know that it is Nethercleft of whom I speak, and you also all know that he and his hobbits have been the scourge of this neighborhood for many a year now. But what you all do not know is the full extent of his corruption. For the past several years now, he has been responsible for a systematic plunder of goods that travel the Brandywine. And most specifically, the Longbottom leaf harvest, renowned throughout the Shire and beyond as the most supreme variety of pipeweed. These thieves have taken the entire crop, shipment after shipment, from the Buckland fields this year."

"Is that what they've been a-draggin' up in those caves of theirs?" Farmer Browning asked incredulously. "How would you know that, and who are you?"

"As for the first, because my companions," and here he motioned to the hobbits waiting silently behind him, "and I helped his hobbits bring it up from the river. And as for the second? Well, there is something else you folk need know. Nethercleft has also kidnapped the young heir of Brandy Hall as well, and holds him for ransom in the caves even now."

There was a sudden collective gasp of horror at this, for Halfthistle was part of Buckland, and Saradoc Brandybuck and his young son were held in high regard by all and sundry. But all were not yet convinced. "How can we be certain if any of this is a bit true?" growled a grizzled hobbit, thumping his half-pint on the table. "I still not be knowin' who you are, and that pack you brought wi'ya are a fearsome lookin' lot."

"I do not answer for their looks," Baggins replied coolly, as a murmur of grumbled agreement swept the room, "but I can, in point of fact, answer for their bravery. And as for myself, I am Meriadoc Brandybuck's cousin, and if anyone else has reason to doubt my sincerity, I will take the matter up with them personally."

"Here, Fred, you used to work at Brandy Hall," the grizzled hobbit was still not reassured, and nudged the even older hobbit at his side. "Is this young poppycock all he says he is?"

Fred rose on rather wobbling knees and stumped over to where Baggins stood, peering at him closely through rheumy eyes as the rest of the hobbits watched, awaiting his judgment. "Why, bless the stars," Fred stumbled back in surprise as he finally got a good look at Baggins' face. "There ain't any mistakin' those eyes, no ways! Frodo Baggins, as I live and breathe! We surely did miss you when you left for Hobbiton."

"Good of you to remember, Fred, and it is certainly fine to see you again, likewise," Baggins assured him, with a wry smile, and a warm clasp of his shoulder. "I infiltrated his company at Stock," he continued, turning back to the stunned audience, who was still trying to assimilate that last bit of news. "The hobbits I have brought here with me did not have a choice. They are dock workers from Stock, the last village Nethercleft invaded, and were forcibly conscripted to join his band. We managed to escape under the cover of night, but they are willing to join in combat with you, for they know that their village, and their dear ones still there, will have no peace or safety until Nethercleft is forever gone from these hills."

"What Baggins says is true," came the rough voice of one of the riverhobbits standing behind him. "This'd be Jem Reedborn as who's talkin'. We're ready to take care of what needs t'be done. Will ye stand w'us?"

I could see the folk of Halfthistle turn to each other with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, but still a trace of mistrust as well. That did it for me. I jumped to my feet and nervously cleared my throat, causing those about me to turn and stare at me. Public speaking has never been my suit, and for a dreadful moment, my mind was blank, but then I locked eyes with Baggins and the words came to me. "I have come here as well to assist you in this undertaking. I truly am a healer, but my name is Samwise Gamgee, and I am proud to call myself a dear friend of Frodo Baggins. I would follow wherever he would lead, and if he says the matter is to be done, then it will be, and there is no more question about it. We have come to rid you of Nethercleft and rescue the heir of Buckland. Who will follow?"

And in the rising murmur of voices, one rang out clear and true. "I will, at that!" and we saw Bobbin's eager and determined face beaming from the back of the room. "I ain't afraid o'that villain!"

Public opinion, nearly immediately, fell behind that of Bobbin, and we had our troops.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

I found myself, not long after, staring into what appeared to be a trough at the side of a field, overgrown with brush. "And what did you call this again, Bobbin?" I asked dubiously of my companion, who was watching along with myself and the majority of the riverhobbits as the farmer's lad darted down into the brush and mysteriously disappeared.

"Geordie says as it's called a holloway," Bobbin indicated his disappeared friend as the authority on the matter. " 'Tis an old road, and none use it any more, but it's still there all the same."

Geordie's head poked out again, a stray leave or two decorating his short nose, which he blew impatiently off. "Come along, then, 'tis plenty o'room for the lot of us. They'll never be thinkin' o'this holloway, no ways."

That was a compelling argument, so I followed the lad in and found myself in a curious green underworld. I saw at once that this had once been a road of sorts, but seasons of rainfall, and the porous nature of the local stone, had contrived to sink the route well below the fields that had served as shoulders to the road. It had been abandoned, therefore, as a thoroughfare, and the brush and trees along the sides had grown undisturbed until they grew high enough to join over the top, creating a green verdant tunnel in the midst of everyday fields of hops and oats. Obviously it was a pathway that was in use, if not by hobbits, for I could hear rustling in the thick brush, and the sound of small scurrying animals.

Geordie shrugged when I mentioned this to him. "Naught but wee creatures, Mister Samwise, coneys and mice and birds and the like. They'll get out of our way fast enough. I've found a plump coney for dinner down here many a time, but with so many others here, no way will I'll be a-sneakin' up on one today. No matter, we've bigger game ahead."

"And much more dangerous, too," I added, watching Bobbin and Geordie as they made their way through the growth at the forefront of our line. "I want the two of you lads falling behind us, once we are there. After all, we may have need of messengers to the rest of our company, and you two lads would be just the pair to call on."

The pair of them, who had turned glum faces around at my first comment, brightened up considerably at the second thought, and went back to forging our path with renewed determination.

Indeed, I realized, marveling as we continued to scramble along at how much steeper the sides of the holloway were becoming, and how much warmer it was down here in the eerie green light, which was exactly what we might have need of, depending where this strange road left us. Baggins, Farmer Browning, Jem as leader of the riverhobbits, and myself had put our heads together before we left the inn, and had devised a plan. Nethercleft would not be surprised, we felt, to see a group of townsfolk from Halfthistle make an attempt to storm his cave fortress. Farmer Browning had taken on the lead of that group, and Baggins had gone with them to show the way, and to make the attempt to free Brandybuck, if at all possible. But what he would not be expecting is a second group to attack, especially the riverhobbits who had managed to escape under cover of darkness, and whom he would expect to be on their way back to their homes at Stock and beyond. It was essential, then, that we arrive in the greatest of secrecy, and wait until we heard sound of the first group attacking before we did so as well. And a pair or messengers would most likely be just what we might need.

The holloway took a few unexpected turns, constantly appearing to be coming to an end to the uninitiated eye, and there was a fork or two as well, so we were grateful indeed for Geordie's expert direction. The light in the holloway was beginning to glint more golden, a sign that the sun was beginning to set high overhead, when he stopped and indicated a fork that seemed to rise sharply upward. "That way leads out to the back of the hill, behind the caves," he whispered, turning back to Bobbin and myself.

"What is the land like thereabouts?" I asked with some apprehension. "Is it fields there too?"

"Nay, 'tis the woods. Nobody lives in these parts, no ways. They say 'tis the end of the Shire, here."

"Shire or no, it sounds ideal for our purposes," I replied with relief, and immediately consulted with Jem Reedborn, who had come up to join us. We agreed that he and I, along with the two lads, should emerge from our cover, initially, and determine how we were situated. Then Geordie would be sent on to find his father, to let the rest of our companions know that we were ready and waiting, and Bobbin would go with him, to be sent back to us only if needs be. Only when Nethercleft and his hobbits were fully engaged with the others would we join in the fray, to maintain our advantage of surprise. The four of us, therefore, poked our heads cautiously from the exit of the holloway, and glanced around.

Our small guide had been correct regarding our location. The holloway had ended because we were now on the higher hills, at the foot of a dark and dank forest. Pine, cedar, and fir grew thickly ahead of us, and the ground, which was soggy from the recent rain, was abundantly covered with moss and ferns. All was silent, in the fading light, save the occasional heavy flap of wings overhead as unseen large birds returned to their nests for the night, in the high tops of the trees.

I gave an involuntary shudder as I looked about. It was not the place I would have chosen to spend a chilly night. Jem, standing at my side, gave an affirming nod. "We'd not be gettin' much of a fire goin' this night, no ways," he agreed. "That way we took was givin' me the shivers, I don't mind mentioning, but leastways it was more homey than this."

"Well, we shouldn't be here long," I murmured, endeavoring to make my voice matter-of-fact. "Very well, then, captain," I addressed the young lad at my side with an attempt at a light-hearted manner. "Take us near the caves, but not too near, mind you. And then once we are situated, it's off with you to your father and Mister Baggins, and let them know that we are ready when they are."

He nodded, with a struggle between excitement and apprehension clearly apparent on his dirt-smudged face, and Jem disappeared back down the holloway to motion his hobbits to follow, as stealthily as possible. And then we were off, picking our way carefully down the rocky slope away from the woods, careful of the damp moss-covered stones that made for treacherous footing, and as for myself, desperately hoping that the light would hold out until we reached our destination, for indeed this was not a path I would care to follow in the dark.

Our luck held, however, for just about the time I was truly needing to strain my sight to distinguish bush from boulder, Geordie stopped in front of me and held up a warning hand. "We're near enough, to be sure," he whispered, and I suddenly realized what he meant. The steady murmuring sound that I had been assuming to be merely the noise of a nearby tributary of the Brandywine was also covering the muttering and babble of what must have been a fairly large number of hobbits. I began to pick out individual voices, as I listen carefully, and quickly determined that they had no premonition of what was to occur. Most of the conversation was in regard to the preparation of the evening meal, together with the occasional burst of laughter and rude joke. "Very well," I whispered to both of the lads, when we had found places in the shadow of a large rocky ledge directly behind the caves. From here I could see the narrow path that led to the ledge of the rocky wall high above the river, where the openings of three large caves could be seen, each lit by firelight from within, and a goodly crowd of hobbits milling in and out of each of them. "Your father and the rest of our company should be at the foot of the river, just past the caves. We will be awaiting their attack. Once all Nethercleft's followers are engaged with them, we will make our own attack. Both of you lads, though, stay out of the fray as best you can. We shall need you if we must send word to each other, and there is naught to be gained by trying to take on these villains yourselves."

"Don't you be frettin' on our account," Bobbin assured me cheerfully, with a quick squeeze of my arm. "We'll be there in no time, I promise you!"

I began to add another caution, for it troubled me to have such young lads involved in this matter, but it was too late. In a moment, their small shapes could barely be seen scampering through the rocks in the dusk, and quite soon, they were gone.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

I'll never forget the events of that night, as close to battle as I ever wish to be. Not long after we were all in place, a fearsome noise broke out on the far side of the camp, and I could see the townsfolk storming the bandits' stronghold, with Farmer Browning and Baggins in the lead. There were only few moments of confusion among Nethercleft's company, and then they quickly engaged the hobbits from Halfthistle in battle, clearly having been expecting this attack.

My heart sank as I saw both Nethercleft and a burly large hobbit, obviously one of his chief lieutenants, make a concerted attack on Baggins. They had large knives, gleaming in the firelight, whilst his weapon was only a stout staff. That was all it took, and I suspect that we did not wait nearly as long as we should have, but there was no holding back for me any longer. With a great cry that seemed to come from someone else, I snatched up my own cudgel, with which I had armed myself, and bounded down the gravelly ledge that led to the other side of the caves, heedless of my own safety and indeed, anything else but the sight of Baggins holding off two formidable opponents at once. Fortunately, after a moment's surprise, Jem and his companions were at my heels, yelling deafeningly as well.

Most of Nethercleft's pack never saw or heard us coming, in the fray, but a few towards the rear nervously turned about at our approach. But before they could alert their comrades, we had joined in the battle as well, and I heedlessly hit about me in a perfect frenzy until I finally made my way to where Baggins fought. With a hearty whack, I disposed of Nethercleft's assistant, and he fell to the ground unconscious. Baggins gave me a brief thankful smile, and then glanced past me as Nethercleft, suddenly realizing that a new group had entered into the battle, left us with a snarl, and ran up the stony slope to give commands to his subordinates to meet the new threat.

"Good of you to drop in," Baggins breathed, catching my shoulder in a tight grip. "Bit of a tight spot there. But have a look to Meriadoc, would you?" He gestured to just inside the mouth of one of the caves, where I could see Brandybuck bound to a post. "The perfect time to get him out of this mess would be now, in all this confusion. Have Bobbin take him to the holloway and await us there. He should be safe enough there for the time being."

I nodded, and briefly gripping his hand in mine, murmured, "Watch yourself, me dear," and went to do his bidding. As I made my way to Brandybuck though, through the thick of the skirmish and fending off stray blows as best I could, I happened to notice that he had a curious expression on his face. It wasn't fear, or anger, or anything I would have expected, but rather akin to wary anticipation. As he noticed me approach, he gave me a short nod and frown, as if warning me off. And as I stood there for a moment, undecided, his expression abruptly changed to one of alarm and he let off with a piercing whistle.

"Ho, there, Nethercleft!" he yelled, to my astonishment. "Are these lads having the best of you?"

When I heard Nethercleft's answering roar of fury, I realized, with a start, that he had been just behind me. Instinctively, I ducked down, and just in time, as a knife whistled through the air where my head had been. I stumbled a bit, having been thrown off by the sudden realization of what might have been my fate, but as I gained my footing, I glanced back up to where Brandybuck was tied, as an enraged Nethercleft thundered past me to his helpless captive.

But to my astonishment, Nethercleft's hostage grunted something to the tall impassive guard at his side, and with a sudden flick aside of the ropes that had appeared to bind him, both Brandybuck and his guard charged forward to meet the fearsome chief. He had a second knife, gleaming in the firelight by now with blood, and they did not, but it seemed to make little difference to the pair of assailants. They had nothing but their bare hands with which to defend themselves, at least until I heard Baggins' voice from behind me. "Merry!" he yelled out, and his staff sailed past me and was expertly intercepted by Brandybuck's companion, who immediately handed it over to the younger hobbit.

"Good of you, Frodo," grunted the recipient, never glancing away from his opponent, and with the addition of the weapon, quickly started making headway against him.

"That does leave me rather short," Baggins calmly mentioned, as he stood by my side, catching his breath, "so I'll just rely on you for a bit."

"As long as you like, my dear." I must confess that my heart swelled a bit with pride, as I held off some of the thieves, who were trying to come to the aid of their chief.

But as soon as two of the villains attempted to attack me at once, he stepped forward, and with a swift blow, sent one tumbling senseless to our feet, as the one I had walloped with my cudgel staggered off with little appetite for more. "Very nice," I heard his murmur, but before I could respond, I saw Brandybuck had managed to evade Nethercleft's savage knife thrust and his staff came down on Nethercleft's head with a resounding thunk. Nethercleft staggered forward, knife still raised even though blood was streaming down his face, but the tall hobbit at Brandybuck's side gave a fierce kick at Nethercleft's feet at the very same instant Baggins pushed past me and gave the brigands' chief a hearty shove forward. Nethercleft landed face first on the gravel, and did not move.

The rest of his hobbits, once they saw their leader fall, quickly decided that this engagement was over, and nearly instantly melted into the night, and were never seen again in this part of the Shire, to the best of my knowledge. Farmer Browning and the two lads were soon at my side, as was Jem, and we all stared down at the unconscious hobbit who had been the source of so much grief.

"I leave him in your hands, my good Browning," Baggins murmured at last. "Unless, of course, Merry, your father would care to have a word on the matter."

"I'll gladly go along with whatever the Master of Buckland might suggest," Browning said grimly, "but it don't matter much to me. He ain't goin' anywhere he likes, for a very long time."

"Excellent," Baggins nodded with satisfaction. "Oh, and Merry, you might want to check in the farthest cave. I believe that most of this year's crop of Longbottom has been tucked away in there. And Reedborn here, and his hobbits, would be glad to help you get it to wherever it needs to go. I will vouch for them entirely. And Gamgee, you might want to look to my shoulder, if you wouldn't mind. . . " It wasn't until he turned and slowly began to sink to the ground, that I saw that his entire side was covered in blood.

 

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Between Brandybuck and myself, we managed to get Baggins back to the inn, leaving Reedborn and Browning to tackle the confinement of Nethercleft. Bobbin accompanied us, along with his cousin, with whom he had been reunited to their mutual delight. The path was dark and footing uncertain, but the ever resourceful Bobbin had managed to snatch up a lantern from the bandits' stronghold, and led the way for us. It seemed like far longer than it actually must have been and the quantity of blood, continuing to seep through the strips of my shirt which I had torn off and bound around him before we left, had my heart in my throat the entire way back. Brandybuck said nothing, but his face was grim, and I knew that he was trying his best to jostle his unconscious cousin as little as possible.

It was fairly close to midnight by the time we reached the inn, and were able to lay him on the small cot in the back room that had been assigned to me the night before. I left Bobbin and his master to explain, in great detail, what had happened on the cliffs' edge in front of the caves Nethercleft had commandeered for so long. The innkeeper, as well as the straggling group seated about the great room, were properly horrified at the tale, but I had no interest in the account whatsoever, and promptly shut myself in the back with Brandybuck and the tall hobbit who had assisted him in the fray and followed him yet.

"How is he, Sam?" Brandybuck blurted out anxiously, as soon as we gently lay his unconscious form on the rough bed. "Will he be all right?"

I had no mind for idle speculation, however, and immediately set them to assisting me. "Start the fire, Merry," I ordered peremptorily, "and you. . " Here I paused, not having the slightest idea who this other hobbit was.

"Tobias," he supplied quickly, touching his forehead.

"Tobias it is," I nodded, not making any effort to determine why that name seemed familiar. "Two buckets of water, then, Tobias, as quickly as possible. You'll find some empty ones over by the door, I believe."

Rolling Frodo gently to his uninjured side, I cautiously cut away the strips of my shirt with a blunt knife, and examined the wound. It was just under his left shoulder blade, and for a hideous moment, I questioned whether the knife had reached his heart. But my training stood me in good stead, and I realized that it would have bled far more profusely if that had been the case. Fortunately, Tobias had by now arrived with at least one bucket of clean water, and I was able to begin gingerly washing the wound.

What I saw when it was clean, however, was disconcerting. The knife had not gone as deep as I had feared, but the slash was wide, and at a site where it would be difficult for the patient to keep from moving it about as it healed. There was no hope for it, then, and now was the time to treat it, while Baggins was still unconscious. "Fetch me a needle, some strong thread, and wax," I ordered peremptorily, and paid no mind to who left to do my bidding.

While I waited impatiently, I checked my patient over, forcing myself, to the best of my ability, to treat him in an unemotional manner. I could not allow memories of this same smooth skin as seen by firelight, the way the muscles played underneath, my familiarity with every glint and shadow that golden light cast on it, to distract me from what had to be done.

At last Brandybuck returned with what I required, and I cleaned the needle in the pot of hot water at my side and threaded it, biting the thread off sharply. As I rubbed wax into the thread to allow the stitches to go through more easily, I finally looked up to the other two. "Merry, you must go for the moment," I told him gently, seeing his shocked expression. "Find some clean cloths that I can use as a bandage once I am through. Don't fret, my dear lad, I've done this before. It will heal faster this way."

Brandybuck swallowed hard, his face still pale, and reluctantly nodded. Not trusting his voice, he lay a gentle hand on Baggins' head, and then quickly left the room. "Very well, then," I turned to the near stranger at my side.

But he spoke up immediately, with no need of instructions. "No worries, sir. I've seen this done a time or two. I'll hold him fast while you work."

"Samwise Gamgee, and pleased to meet you likewise," I corrected him, entirely inconsequentially, and emptied my mind to all else but the task at hand.

I suppose it did not take long, but I have no way of judging. I tried to make the stitches neat, and close enough to bind the wound, without any superfluous ones. Frodo had stirred once or twice, moaning and trying to turn, but Tobias held him firmly, and to my immense relief, he did not wake up during the procedure. At last, it was over, and I bent over him to bite off the excess thread. Wiping the blood off of Frodo's back once again, I could see that the bleeding had slowly considerably, a very good sign, and with the assistance of a closely wrapped bandage, should stop completely before long.

Brushing the hair off of my forehead with a weary sweep of the back of my hand, I murmured my thanks to my assistant. "Just hold him a moment longer, while I get some unguent with which to cover that. And I expect Merry should be just outside the door by now."

As indeed he was, still pale, and tightly clutching a veritable stack of clean cloths. "It all went well," I assured him quickly, as I let him in. "He should be fit as ever and back to complaining about being terminally bored in a week or so. There, there, my lad, it is really quite all right, you know," I felt compelled to add as the young Brandybuck swept me up in a fierce embrace. "I'll be giving him a sleeping draught, although I'm not sure if he really needs it, but I suspect we could all use a good night's sleep."

Merry straightened up at my response, and awkwardly smiled, brushing a quick hand across his eyes. "Farming Browning has offered me, and Tobias," he added, nodding to his companion, "his hospitality for the night."

"Well, there you go," I replied, with relief. "I'll see how he looks in the morning and we can decide what to do next from there."

But, despite my admonition regarding a good night's sleep, there was none for me. I left the entire bed for Frodo's comfort, and sitting on the floor next to him, held his hand in both of mine, against my cheek, and gratefully listened to his steady breathing as he slept. Watching the flames in the fireplace, as they gradually diminished and died away, my thoughts kept me company until far into the night.

 

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I was awakened, the next morning, by a gentle hand brushing across my face. Drowsily, I luxuriated in the touch until the events of the day before suddenly came back to me. "Frodo!" I exclaimed, my eyes flying open as I straightened up instantly. "My dearest, how are you?"

"I suspect you know better than I," came the wry answer, as Frodo rolled gingerly onto his good side. "Got nicked rather badly, back there, did I?"

But there was no time to answer, as there was suddenly a rather timid tapping on the door. Giving a hearty yawn and rising from the floor, a trifle stiffly, it must be confessed, I went over and cracked the door open. The last thing I wanted to see, at this moment, was a delegation come to seek out Frodo's opinions, thoughts, and general wisdom on any particular aspect of this whole affair, but to my relief, it was only Brandybuck, and I tugged him on in before anyone else could notice that visiting hours had apparently begun.

"Hullo, Merry," Baggins gave his cousin a warm smile and tried to raise himself into a sitting position.

"Now, then, Frodo, do have a care!" I couldn't help but fuss, rushing back over to him. "All my careful work will be for naught if you move incautiously, you know."

"Why, what sort of miracles did you have to perform on me, Sam?" Frodo gave a weak laugh as Brandybuck quickly joined me in helping raise him to a more upright position.

"Sam had to sew you up, Frodo!" Merry was quick to inform him, obviously disappointed that the bandaging was in the way of a good view of my work. "As with a needle and thread! I couldn't watch," he continued, with noticeable reluctance. "My stomach was getting quite jumpy at the thought of it. But Tobias stayed and helped, and told me all about it afterwards."

"Tobias? Indeed that brings up quite an interesting point," Frodo mused, suddenly alert and ignoring my efforts to remove the strips of cloth about himself.

"Frodo, you can chat with Merry all you like on this matter, if you will but raise your arm just the slightest," I grumbled, gently catching the limb and lifting it as I interrupted him.

"Oh, very well. I say, was this your shirt, Sam? I thought I recognized that button. Very sorry about that, old thing, I'll have to make that up to you. Anyway, Merry, the subject was Tobias. So what did he tell you regarding the cause of his absence?"

"What was most likely the truth," Merry replied slowly, with a troubled look on his face. "That he was originally sent to Brandy Hall by Nethercleft to live with us and collect information on the harvest and shipping. And that he unexpectedly fell in love, and married, and began to feel at home with us. After many years with no word from Nethercleft, he thought that he had been forgotten, and was quite happy to be so. But last spring, he received word that Nethercleft was planning to steal this year's Longbottom harvest, to send it south on the Brandywine, to the Blue Hills, from whence he and Tobias came. Tobias wasn't at all willing, but Nethercleft threatened to blackmail him if he did not assist."

"But when I recognized him, I fouled matters up so much that the villains felt compelled to capture me as well. When they decided to hold me for ransom, he felt that matters had gone too far. Nethercleft unsuspectingly allowed him to be my guard, and he arranged it so that I only appeared to be trussed up, whenever necessary. We were awaiting our moment, last night, when Nethercleft might come close enough to me that we could spring on him together, and thanks to all of you, it finally came."

"Do you trust him?" Frodo asked sharply, intently studying his cousin's face, as I gingerly lifted the last of the cloth from his back.

"Yes, I do," Merry lifted his chin decisively. "We had many hours in which to talk, these past few days, and I sincerely believe that he can be trusted."

"Very well. Since word must have reached your father by now, he will be frantic with worry over you. You need to return home immediately, along with the rest of the hobbits from Brandy Hall, and Tobias will be just the hobbit to accompany you."

"And Nethercleft?" Merry asked, before sneaking a look at Frodo's back, which I had just wiped clean. "Oh, I say, Frodo! That is some fine stitching back here! What a pity you can't see it."

"Indeed," Frodo murmured with a wry grin. "But then I would expect no less," he added, with a warm smile in my direction. "However, you bring up a critical point, Merry. We must discuss the matter of Nethercleft's disposition before you go. If you wouldn't mind gathering all the interested parties together, I believe that we can settle the matter over breakfast. And yes, I will be getting up, Samwise," he muttered in response to my horrified look. "It will heal just as nicely if I am vertical as it would if I were horizontal. Plus, I am famished. The life of a river hobbit is sadly lacking in the proper number of meals, and I plan to compensate for this past week as quickly as possible.

 

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Nature had, at last, relented, and it was a blue sky above us as we glided up the Brandywine. Bobbin and his cousin, Briarfoot, had rented a lovely flat and stable boat, I was gratified to realize, with which to return to Stock and they were delighted to have Baggins and myself along for company. So I had a comfortable seat against some bales of blankets and the like, and Frodo had, as was proper for the convalescence of the wounded hero, his head in my lap, and I was regaling the company with tales, all entirely true, of Bobbin's resourcefulness and ingenuity. Briarfoot was shaking his head in wonder, and I could see that he was viewing his young foundling cousin in an entirely new light. Indeed, he was soon confessing that, not having fallen naturally into the role of a parent, the fact that young Bobbin was growing up had completely escaped his notice.

"We just never got to talking together that much, I suppose, hobbit to hobbit like," he confessed to Baggins and myself, as Bobbin beamed happily, "but the lad is full to the brim of ideas. Looks as if I've a partner now."

They went back to their happy discussion regarding improvements to the Leaping Trout, which could have started with the name, in my private opinion, but my attention soon wandered from that topic. "Frodo, me dear," I murmured quietly to my companion, "what made you realize that Nethercleft was not just some ordinary bandit?"

"Why, what you mentioned about the language in which he spoke to his subordinates, of course, Sam," he answered, cocking his head back and smiling up at me. "The words you mentioned had me puzzled indeed, until I remembered a rumor I had heard from Cook about Tobias on one of my trips back to Brandy Hall with Bilbo. From the Blue Hills, she said he came, and I just supposed that was a part of the Shire with which I was unfamiliar, and thought no more about it. It was only after I was thinking that the language had the feel of that of the men from the south that we encountered earlier, and yet was not the same, that I remembered that the Blue Hills indeed lay outside of the Shire. And it would stand to reason that if hobbits had settled there, long ago, that their own language would have become quite different from what is spoken in the Shire. That's when I realized that Nethercleft had come, or possibly had been sent, to establish a trade route between the Shire and the south. Longbottom was the first commodity to be taken, but I have no doubt that it would not have been the last."

"But how ridiculous, Frodo," I couldn't help but respond, with some disbelief. "Surely if they had purchased it in the normal fashion, it would have been easier for all concerned?"

"One never knows," Frodo mused, his gaze shifting to the trees on the river bank. "One would think so, certainly, and yet the Shire has always been reluctant to deal with outsiders. Perhaps they felt as if they had no choice. In any case, I still think it was wise to deal with Nethercleft as we did. I do not think that the Shire can consider itself insulated from the world at large any longer, and a modicum of restraint can go a long way."

I could not help but give a skeptical huff at that judgment. I had had to agree that it was impractical to assume that Nethercleft could have been locked up forever, and yet to allow him to leave seemed, at best, imprudent to me. Yet Frodo, Farmer Browning, Jem Reedborn, and even Meriadoc Brandybuck all had agreed that it was best to send him packing from the Shire with a stern warning that the Shire was not such easy prey as apparently was supposed, and that all in this farthing would be on the alert for any nefarious doings for some time to come, and would not hesitate to quickly band together to drive the villains out, should they choose to return. "After all," Browning had mentioned sternly, "we've had a taste of what we can do when we stick together. And many thanks to Mister Baggins, here, for showing us the way."

Certainly I had no reservations as to agreeing with the last statement, so I kept the rest of my concerns to myself, but of course that had not deceived Baggins in the slightest.

The rest of the trip proved uneventful, and the rain mercifully held off until we arrived in Stock, where it proceeded to make up for lost time.

Both of the Briarfoot cousins quickly offered us hospitality at the inn, but I shook my head. "No need," I thanked them anyway. "I believe I have a day or two left on the smial I rented. May as well get full value on the thing."

 

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I leaned back against the cushions, before the crackling fire, content with my life and everything in it. Baggins lay snuggled against me, blowing smoke rings into the already befogged room. His left shoulder was still bandaged but we had managed, quite inventively I must say, to do whatever we could and still not disturb it. But we were currently blissfully sated, the rain was pounding quite entertainingly against the shutters, the stew was bubbling merrily away and the wine was uncorked, and I was beginning to contemplate how the Widow might take to a pile of cushions suddenly appearing in the study at Bag End.

"Do you ever suppose we shall lead placid lives, Frodo dearest?" I mused happily, drawing a playful finger down the length of his sharp nose.

"I would certainly hope not, Sam, my love. You know how very grumpy I get when life seems to be veering into that direction." He gave a nip to my ear to underscore the point. "Why, would you like that?"

"I suppose I would have married Rosie, or some other village lass, long ago if that had been the case," I couldn't help but laugh. "But as it stands, I'm besotted with you, and there's always mystery and danger when you are about."

Frodo chuckled then, and blowing his pipe out, laid it to the side. "I suppose it seems that way. But the only mystery that currently attracts my attention is how you manage to be so decidedly alluring, given the fact that I've known you since you were a fauntling."

"Indeed, that is a mystery that demands investigation," I couldn't help but laugh, wordlessly encouraging him over me once again. "Perhaps we need to examine the facts of the case once again."

"I'm sure it's entirely elementary, my dearest Gamgee," I heard him breathe in my ear, before his delectable mouth, once again, found mine.


End file.
